


honeycombs and berry bushes

by tragicallynerdy



Series: ursa major [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Rated Teen largely because the author has a potty mouth, This is just a ton of fluff y'all, Were-Creatures, now contains some whumpy chapters too, werebear!Matthew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 24,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallynerdy/pseuds/tragicallynerdy
Summary: A collection of soft relationship-focused ficlets in which Matthew is a werebear, and Clayton is his human. This is 99% fluff y'all.
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Series: ursa major [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721386
Comments: 174
Kudos: 125





	1. In which Matthew is a werebear

**Author's Note:**

> What it says on the tin! These are ficlets and drabbles about were-bear Matty and regular ol' human Clayton. All of them (at this point) have pre-established Clayson, and except for the first one come in no particular chronological order. This will not have an update schedule. 
> 
> If there are any warnings for the chapter, I'll put it in the author's note. Rated Teen JIC.
> 
> Honestly this is just an excuse to write copious amounts of fluff with a dash of fluffy h/c.
> 
> In case you are curious, Matthew is a grizzly.

“You’re a bear.”

“A werebear, yes.”

Clayton squinted at Matthew and tilted his head to the side. “Like a werewolf?”

Matthew smiled nervously. “Yes.”

“Except a bear.”

“Exactly. I’m a bit bigger than your average werewolf, I’m afraid.”

Clayton snorted. “No shit. You turn with the full moon too?”

Matthew scratched at his scalp. “Sort of? A lot of the myths are wrong. I can turn whenever I want, but it’s a lot harder to stay in this skin on a full moon.”

“Huh.”

“You’re taking this much better than I expected, you know.”

Clayton shrugged. “We’ve seen weirder things. And it explains why you like honey so much.”

Matthew hesitated and thought about the ring he had stashed in his desk. “So… it’s not a deal breaker?” he asked in a small voice.

Clayton crossed over and stretched up to kiss him, hands slipping into the back pockets of Matthew’s slacks. “Nope. If your snoring wasn’t a deal breaker this sure as shit won’t be.”

Matthew laughed and wrapped his arms tightly around Clayton, kissing his forehead. “Good.”

Clayton pulled back enough to look at his face. “Can I see you though? Or is that too weird?”

“You sure you want to?” Matthew looked skeptical, but not upset. 

"Hell yeah I want to see you!" 

Matthew laughed again and gently pushed him back, starting to unbutton his shirt. "Alright, if you say so. I gotta get undressed first, otherwise I'll burst my clothing when I shift."

"Huh. That must be mighty inconvenient."

"It can be at times," Matthew admitted. "Been stranded naked in the woods more than once." 

Clayton laughed and moved to their couch, curling up to watch Matthew undress. Once naked, Matthew paused and looked at him for confirmation, letting out a held breath at the smile and nod he got. He shifted, and in the blink of an eye the man was gone and in it’s place was a ginormous bear, gazing steadily at Clayton and sniffing the air. 

“Oh my _god_ , you didn’t say you’re a grizzly,” Clayton breathed out in awe. Matthew was beautiful, all glossy fur and heavy muscles, filling the space of their living room. “You must be over a thousand pounds, Jesus.”

Matthew sat on his haunches and snorted, floorboards creaking under his weight. Clayton got up from the couch and slowly approached, hands held out questioningly.

“Can I…”

He held his hand out to Matthew’s massive head, which was almost as big as Clayton’s torso. Matthew snuffed his hand, then nudged his cold nose into Clayton’s palm. Clayton grinned and smoothed his hand over Matthew’s snout then up to the top of his head, petting the soft fur. Matthew chuffed and pressed into the touch, rolling his head and directing Clayton’s hand towards his ears. Clayton laughed and dutifully scratched them, grinning at the pleased rumble that came out of his partner.

“You’re so _soft_ , Matty. Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me this whole time, I could’ve been having bear cuddles for _months_.”

Suddenly the bear was gone, Matthew shifting back to his human form and gathering Clayton into a fierce hug, face buried in his hair.

Clayton startled at the sudden shift but hugged back, stroking Matthew’s broad shoulders. “Hey, what’s this for?”

Matthew spoke into his hair, and Clayton was startled to hear that he sounded close to tears. “You’re really okay with it.”

Clayton hugged harder and kissed Matthew’s shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart. I love you, love every damn bit of you, and that includes bear-you.”

Matthew shuddered and clung to him. 

“And I ain’t gonna leave you, not unless you kick me out first. Okay?”

Matthew nodded into his hair, then pulled back to look at his face, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you too, Clay. I’m just so damn lucky to have you.”

Clayton smiled and gave him a soft kiss. “I’m pretty damn lucky too.”


	2. In which Matthew would hibernate if he could

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a winter morning, and Matthew won't come out from under the damn covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff. No warnings :)

It's winter, and Matthew won't come out from under the goddamn covers. And yeah, it's cold as fuck, Clayton will give him that. But he's already started a fire in the stove, and set the coffee brewing, and put oats in the pot. They've got a meeting in an hour, and he's gotta get up. 

"Matty. C'mon." Clayton tugs at the covers, but Matthew's far stronger than he is and has a death grip on their quilt. All he can see of his partner is a tuft of brown hair poking out from under the covers. "Food's almost ready, and we gotta see Swearengen in an hour."

A growl comes from the pile of bedding and pillows. "Don't growl at me, Jesus. C'mon." More ineffectual tugging. Clayton huffs and crawls onto the bed to sit on top of Matthew. "You're not an actual bear, you don't need to hibernate. Now c'mon, get up."

He tugs the covers down enough to see Matthew's face, grumpy scowl firmly in place. Clayton grins and leans down to peck him on the nose. "Yes, yes, you're a very scary werebear, now c'mon." Matthew groans and rolls over, toppling Clayton onto the mattress. Clayton's triumphant grin is quickly wiped off his face as Matthew flops on top of him, pinning him to the bed.

"Goddammit Matthew, we don't have time -" Matthew snuffles and buries his face in Claytons neck. 

"S'fine, we can be late." Matthew settles in deeper, even as Clayton tries to push him off. 

"The oats are gonna burn." He warns, already knowing he's lost the battle. 

"Let em," Matthew mumbles, already half asleep. Clayton sighs and gives up, slumping against the mattress. Matthew hums in approval and nestles closer. 

The oats do burn. But that's alright.


	3. In which Clayton is injured, and Matthew wins an argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew can and will use his bulk to force Clayton to rest for once in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for non-graphic mention of an injury.

Clayton groaned. "Matty, c'mon. Move." Matthew snuffed at him and sat down, all 1200 pounds of fur and muscle, in the doorway. Clayton pushed at his shoulder and got a lick to the face in response. "Ain't fair, you know. I have things to _do_ , I won't be out long and promise I won't pull my stitches."

Matthew yawned and sniffed at his side, then nudged his cold nose into Clayton's neck. Clayton leaned his weight against the warmth, and sighed unhappily. "You know I'd win if you weren't a goddamn bear." He buried his face in Matthew's thick fur, then turned and ambled back towards the bed. Pulling off a blanket, he settled on the floor. 

"Fine, asshole. But if I'm on bedrest then you'd better get your fuzzy butt over here and keep me warm." Matthew lumbered over and settled beside him, floorboards creaking as he walked. Once he was curled on the floor Clayton wormed his way under a giant paw and settled in close. "Won't work every time," he mumbled, eyes already slipping closed. Matthew gave a pleased huff at the sight and carefully pulled him in closer.


	4. In which they find some berry bushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clayton has a surprise for Matthew.

“Just where are you taking me, Clayton? We’ve been walking for almost an hour.” 

Clayton glanced back with a smile, then continued his trudge through the forest.

“You’ll see, we’re almost there. You’ll love it, I swear.”

Matthew made an incredulous sound but followed dutifully. A few minutes later they broke through into a wide clearing. Clayton turned to watch his partner take in the sight.

“Good Lord.” Matthew’s eyes were wide as he gazed around, subtly sniffing the air. Clayton couldn’t help but grin.

“Thought you might like this, I know how crazy you get for any kind of berries.” All around the clearing were blueberry bushes, heavy with ripe fruit. 

Matthew came closer and pulled him in for a kiss. “How did you find this place?”

“Stumbled on it a few weeks back, thought things would be ripe right about now. Glad I was right.” He shooed at Matthew, and opened his bag to pull out several smaller satchels. “Now go on, I’ll pick a bag for us to bring back home.” 

Matthew grinned and kissed him again, then ambled over to one of the bushes and started stripping the plant of it’s fruit. 

“Matty?” Clayton waited until Matthew’s attention was back on him. “You can shift, if you want. Nobody's gonna find us up here.”

Matthew hesitated. “You won’t mind?”

Clayton grinned. “Not at all. You know I love it when you’re all fuzzy.” 

Matthew grinned back and quickly set to work removing his clothing before shifting into his massive grizzly form. And then he was off, quickly stripping the bushes of their berries, little huffs of happiness escaping now and then. Clayton watched him for a few minutes, smiling at the sight of the enthralled bear, before setting to work on filling his own bag. 

He had almost filled his satchel with berries when lumbering footsteps alerted him to Matthew’s presence. He glanced over his shoulder just in time for a sloppy lick to the ear. 

“Gee thanks, asshole, love you too.” Matthew huffed and nosed his shoulder. Clayton turned around to face him, and Matthew was quick to nuzzle his massive head against Clayton’s chest, nearly knocking him over. Clayton stroked his fur and leaned down to press a kiss to Matthew’s fuzzy head. “Enjoy yourself, sweetheart?” 

Matthew let out a whine and nudged him, rolling his head around until Clayton’s hand settled behind his ear. Clayton started to scratch him dutifully and laughed at the pleased chuff he got in response. “You know, we’re early enough in the season that we could probably come back here in a few weeks. Sound good?” Matthew pressed forwards, which Clayton took as a yes. 

They stood that way for a few minutes, Clayton stroking Matthew’s soft fur, heavy head pressed against his chest. He loved moments like this with Matthew, loved that his partner was comfortable shifting around him. But they had to return to Deadwood eventually, so he leaned down and pressed another kiss to the top of Matthew’s head. 

“Ready to go?” he murmured. Matthew raised his head and licked his cheek in response. “Alright, alright. Let’s go then. If you wanna wait you can shift once we’re closer, stretch your legs a bit.”

Matthew made his way over to his pile of clothes and batted at them with a giant paw. Clayton smiled and picked them up, stuffing them in the bag he had made Matthew carry. “Lead on then, o fluffy one.”

They were close to Deadwood when Matthew stopped in the middle of the trail and transformed. He dressed quickly, ignoring Clayton’s lascivious grin, and then stepped close to pull Clayton in for a kiss that tasted faintly of blueberries.

“That was worth the trip. Best gift I’ve gotten in ages. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Love you, you know.” Clayton just knew he had the soppiest smile on his face, but couldn’t help it. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“I know. Love you too.” 


	5. In which it is winter, and Matthew is sleepy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Wollfgang for the prompt for this one!

Clayton peered into their sitting room from where he had been washing up after dinner. Matthew was curled up on the couch under their thickest quilt, Bible in his lap and notebook beside him, blinking blearily at the page. Clayton bit his lip and smiled at the sight, and went to put the kettle on. He reckoned Matthew would be snoring and drooling on his page within the next few minutes unless Clayton woke him up.

It was the dead of winter, and although Matthew didn’t _quite_ have enough bear in him to hibernate, he was sleepy all the time, ate more than normal, and was constantly seeking out the nearest heat source. Matthew found his instincts in winter annoying; Clayton found them _adorable_. Just two days ago Matthew had fallen asleep on his shoulder at Miriam’s, and last week he’d almost fallen asleep on their table at the Gem. Clayton not-so-secretly enjoyed having a cuddly, sleepy Matthew at his beck and call, and used it as an excellent excuse to snuggle close whenever the situation called for. Not to mention that Matthew ran so _warm_ , and only grumbled a little when Clayton would shove his cold hands and nose into Matthew’s warmth.

A few minutes later he wandered back into the sitting room, two steaming mugs in hand. Sure enough, Matthew’s head was tilted back against the couch, soft snores rumbling from his mouth. Clayton grinned and set down the mugs on a side table, reaching out to slide Matthew’s Bible and papers from his grasp. Matthew startled and woke up, blinking up at him sleepily.

“Hey sleepy head, brought you some tea.” Clayton set down the books and nudged a mug of tea into Matthew’s empty hands. “Thought you could use it.”

Matthew gave him a slow, sleepy smile and tugged on his hand. “You gonna come sit now?”

Clayton nodded and sat beside Matthew on the couch, rearranging the quilt over both their laps. Matthew immediately slumped and curled into his side, head resting on Clayton’s shoulder. Clayton huffed out a laugh and kissed the top of his head.

“This was supposed to help you wake up, not make it easier to nap.”

“’S not my fault you’re warm and comfy,” Matthew muttered, tucking his head more securely against Clayton.

“And your sermon?” Clayton leaned his head against Matthew’s, and snuggled closer despite himself.

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” Matthew slurred, hands already slacking around his tea. Clayton pried it gently from his hands and took a sip, glad he had left his own on the side table. Matthew hummed and pulled the quilt in close around them, keeping them warm. Clayton smiled and settled in, knowing it would be a while before Matthew would wake. He'd never said it, but this was his new favorite part of winter; snuggled close with Matthew, both knowing the other would be there when they woke.


	6. In which Clayton is injured again, and Arabella and Matthew are more stubborn than he

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning for canon-typical non-graphic injuries.

They were out on a job, and people were shooting at them. Which was fine, normal even! But then Clayton got shot. It was a solid hit to the leg, sending pain screaming up his thigh and down his calf. Clayton couldn’t seem to shake it off like he normally would, and soon found himself facedown in the dirt, swearing at whoever thought this was a good idea.

“Clayton’s down!” Arabella shouted.

Clayton cursed again. _Don’t fucking tell everyone, ‘Bella, that’ll mean -_ The sound of an extraordinarily loud bellow, followed closely by screams of terror, signified that an angry werebear had transformed and was bowling his way through the ranks. Clayton groaned into the dirt.

“Goddammit, Matty.”

It was only a few minutes of lying in the dirt before the screams died down, and then a cold wet nose was snuffling at him and nudging him to roll over.

Clayton blinked up at Matthew with a frown. Matthew blinked back, then sniffed at his bleeding leg with a small growl. Clayton groaned and batted his head away clumsily.

"You don't need to shift every time I get hurt, Matty, I'm fucking _fine_."

Matthew snuffed in disagreement, and Clayton huffed and rolled his eyes. _Goddamn overprotective werebear_. He wrapped a hand in Matthew’s fur and hauled himself to sitting, leaning against Matthew’s flank for support.

“I’ll be fine, it’s barely a scratch.”

Matthew gave an incredulous chuff and poked at Clayton’s leg with his nose. The pain that shot through his leg whited out everything as his head went staticky and his body grew heavy. It felt like just a moment passed, but when he blinked back to awareness Arabella was crouched beside him and wrapping his leg with gauze. Thinking was hard, and he was slumped more heavily against Matthew than he remembered. _Fuck, musta lost time._

Arabella finished quickly, then shifted her attention to his face. “Oh good, you’re back.” He scowled, and Arabella gave Matthew a pointed look before she turned a determined frown to Clayton. "Can't be walking on that leg, Clay."

Clayton groaned, knowing what was coming next. "The fuck I can’t, I can walk just fuckin’ fine." He tangled his fingers in Matthew's fur and hauled himself to standing, leaning against Matthew and panting from the effort. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots from his vision, then grinned triumphantly at Arabella.

Arabella just raised an eyebrow, then put her hands on her hips and looked to Matthew. "Uh huh. Sure. Matthew, if you will." Matthew snorted and ducked his shoulders, pressing against Clayton's knees at the same time that Arabella shoved at his shoulders. The world flipped as he crumpled over Matthew’s back, and then he was horizontal again, face pressed into soft fur as Matthew shifted back to standing.

"Goddammit, Matty, not again,” he groaned. He raised one shaky arm and gave Arabella the finger from where he was flopped over Matthew's back. “Hate you both,” he muttered, scowling into Matthew’s fur. 

Matthew let out a low, mournful whine, and Arabella just laughed.

“Love you too Clay. C’mon Matthew, let’s get him home.”

He would have fought if his head wasn't spinning, but it was, so he gave up and hoped he wouldn’t fall off. _Not that Matty’d ever drop me, but still._

"Ain't fair that you're built like a goddamn tank,” he groused groggily. _Fuck, the world is spinning more than it should be._ “You don't need to carry me every time, you know."

Matthew huffed and just started walking.


	7. In which Matthew has eaten all the honey

“Matty.” The bear lying at his feet opened one eye and glanced up questioningly. “Did you eat all the honey again?”

Matthew closed his eye and turned his head away, and Clayton nudged him with one foot.

“Don’t ignore me, c’mon. I can’t find it and need it for some baking.”

Matthew laid a paw over his eyes and let out what Clayton assumed to be a fake snore.

“Uh huh. Real convincing, Matty.” He crouched beside Matthew and heaved the paw off his snout, pulling his heavy head up to eye level. Matthew gave him a baleful look. “C’mon, did you finish it?”

Matthew inched forwards and licked a stripe across his face. Clayton scowled in response.

“Gonna take that for a yes. You have the _worst_ sweet tooth, I swear to God.”

Matthew growled softly and flashed Clayton a hint of teeth. It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Clayton tapped him on the nose in response.

“I’ll take the Lord’s name in vain all I want if you continue to eat all the goddamn honey. Now I can’t make those honey biscuits you like so much.”

Matthew whined low in his throat and nosed at Clayton’s jaw. He sat up and pressed forward until Clayton sprawled backwards on the floor, then lay beside him and settled his head on Clayton’s chest, snuffling at his chin. Clayton hummed at the weight and warmth of him, and ran his fingers through Matthews soft fur.

“Apology accepted. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”


	8. In which Clayton is not as funny as he thinks he is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for an overabundance of puns.

“Good Lord, this is taking forever.” Matthew slumped in his seat, and Clayton yawned and leaned against him.

“I know, waiting is simply un-bear-able.”

The specific stress on the middle of the word gave Matthew pause. “... it is, but please don’t do what I think you’re doing.”

“I’m serious, Matty, I can bear-ly stand it.”

“Clay. No.”

“It’s almost bar-bear-ic to make us wait this long, I’m telling you.”

Matthew let out a long-suffering sigh, and Clayton suppressed a giggle.

“You are the absolute worst.”

“Now that right there is a bear-faced lie, you know you love me.”

“Good LORD, will you stop?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop, Lord knows I wouldn’t want you to be em-bear-essed by me.”

Matthew elbowed him in the side, and Clayton gasped in fake outrage.

“Honey, how could you?? You’re being paw-sitively awful.”

Matthew turned and put his hand over Clayton’s mouth.

“No.” He pulled it away, then immediately replaced it when Clayton started to speak again. “No, Clay.”

Clayton grinned under his hand then blew a raspberry against his palm. Matthew scowled and pulled it away, wiping his palm on Clayton’s trousers.

“How I put up with you, Clayton, I have no idea.”

Clayton pulled him close and pressed a grinning kiss to his scowl. “It’s because you love me beary beary much.”

Matthew huffed and kissed the laughter out of his mouth.


	9. In which Clayton does not understand Shrove Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys eat some syrup with pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this one back on Shrove Tuesday, but am just getting around to posting it now! So... happy belated pancake Tuesday y'all.

“Why are we having pancakes for dinner again?” Clayton asked, watching Matthew carefully flip a massive pancake that took up the whole pan. He grinned at Matthew’s look of pride when it survived the flip in one piece.

“It’s Shrove Tuesday, Clay.” Clayton gave him a look of utter befuddlement. “It’s a church thing. Eating up all the good stuff in your house to prepare for lent. My mama always made us pancakes to celebrate, even though we never really fasted.”

Clayton squinted at the jar of syrup on the table and crossed his arms. “You sure it ain’t just an excuse to eat syrup for dinner?”

“Clayton!” Matthew exclaimed, all laughter and mock outrage. “I would never!”

“Uh huh,” Clayton leveled him a look of fond incredulity. “Sure. Just last week you said that biscuits were “just a vessel for honey” then made them every night with dinner. I wouldn’t put it past you to use some religious thing as an excuse to eat pancakes and syrup.”

Matthew sputtered and plated the pancake, cutting it in two then pouring more batter in the pan. He slid one half onto a second plate, then brought both over to the table. “You besmirch my good name, Clayton, I’m wounded!” Clayton laughed and swiped the syrup before Matthew could reach for it, grinning at the wounded look he got in response. “You’re just still bitter about the honey, aren’t you.”

“Nope.” Clayton took a bite of pancake drizzled with syrup as Matthew doused his own plate. “Just think you’re awful cute when you’re trying to defend yourself, is all.”

Matthew turned red, still blushing at a compliment after all this time together, and fondness welled up inside him. “Well. I guess that’s alright then.”

“And besides,” Clayton said, grinning at Matthew’s plate which was more syrup than pancake. “You really _do_ have the most ridiculous sweet tooth.”


	10. In which Matthew gets a thorn in his paw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew gets a thorn in his paw, and Clayton helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Wollfgang for another fantastic prompt!!
> 
> Chapter warning for somewhat graphic description of blood, a wound, and medical care - for a thorn to the paw specifically.

“Clay?” Arabella called out, standing beside the giant grizzly that was Matthew, softly stroking his hair. “Think something’s wrong with Matthew, can you come here?”

Clayton dropped what he was doing and hurried over, concern twisting his stomach. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

Matthew whined and licked his face as soon as Clayton was within reach, then held up one massive paw with mournful eyes. Clayton crowded in close and dropped a kiss on his head, then crouched to look at it.

“He won’t let me touch it, but maybe you can?” Arabella backed up to Matthew’s shoulder, still stroking his fur gently.

Clayton looked to Matthew for confirmation. “Something wrong with your paw? Okay if I touch it?” Matthew whined and nudged his nose into Clayton’s neck, then dropped the paw heavily in his lap. “Alright, here, just -" he twisted Matthew’s paw to see it better, and caught a glimpse of blood matting the fur. Parting the fur with gentle fingers, he caught a glimpse of a massive thorn buried in deep between the pads of his paw.

“Aw Matty, got a thorn in there.” He bent his head closer to see, and Matthew rested his giant head against Clayton’s shoulder with a whine. “Fuck, it’s a big one too. You okay if I try and get it out? It’s gonna hurt.”

Matthew snuffled and licked his cheek in affirmation. Clayton pressed a kiss to his snout then re-focused on the paw.

“Bella, you got any pliers in that medical kit of yours? Would be better than a knife.”

“Yeah, give me a minute.”

While they waited Matthew lay down with a groan, and Clayton sat cross legged in front of him, Matthew’s paw in his lap and snout resting on one knee. He stoked him between the ears and gave him a sad smile when he caught the miserable look in Matthew’s eyes.

“Sorry you can’t just shift back and deal with it, sweetie. It’d probably be right through your hand.”

Matthew snuffed in agreement and closed his eyes, ears twitching at Arabella’s return. Clayton took the pliers and returned his attention to the paw, parting the fur until he could see the bloody edges of the thorn.

“Ready, baby?” Matthew chuffed and nosed his hand, and Clayton grabbed the edges with the pliers best he could. “Alright, hold still.”

He tried for a smooth pull, but the thorn wouldn’t budge. Matthew whined, louder than before, and licked his hand.

“ _Fuck_ , it’s stuck, just hold on Matty.”

He tightened his grip, took a breath, and pulled as hard as he could. The thorn came free with a spray of blood, and Matthew groaned and shuddered against him. Clayton stoked his head with his free hand soothingly, and made space so Matthew could start licking his paw vigorously.

“Holy shit, Matty, this thing is _massive_. Must be from a honeylocust.” The thorn was easily three inches long and wickedly sharp. “How’d you even find this thing?” Matthew huffed and kept licking his paw, soothing the hurt there. “I know, I know. Probably hurts real bad.”

Clayton dropped the thorn in his lap to deal with later and looped his arm around Matthew’s neck and pressed kisses to his ears. Matthew whined and leant more heavily against him, still licking away.

“Thanks for letting me take it out, sweetie. You did real good. Wanna give it a bit before you shift back, let it heal some?” Matthew chuffed and twitched his ears, which Clayton took as a yes. “Alright. Lemme look at it quick, check it out?”

Matthew let him pull the paw closer, and he parted the wet fur to look at the wound. The bleeding had already slowed, and he had no doubt it would heal within the hours, that amazing werebear healing at work.

“Thanks sweetie. And thanks for trusting me with it. Means a lot that you do.” Matthew whined and licked his cheek, his nose, his chin. Clayton laughed and wiped his face, then pressed a kiss between his eyes. “Love you too, darlin’. Love you too.”


	11. In which it is cold, and a cuddle pile commences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets stuck out on a cold night, and a cuddle pile takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to HawthornShadow for the great prompt for this one!!

“That’s it,” Matthew said, standing up from his seat by their too-small fire. The others looked up in question, peering out from where they were huddled under hats or inside of blankets. “I’m too damn cold, I’m gonna go fuzzy so I can finally feel my fucking toes again.”

They were out on a job, and had planned to camp for the night. What they hadn’t accounted for was the sudden harsh drop in temperature, or the lack of suitable firewood or shelter for miles. It was late, and they were freezing, huddled close together to try and keep warm. Not that it had done them much good; they were all shivering, Aly was far too quiet, and Arabella’s lips were turning blue.

Matthew unwrapped himself from the large blanket he had claimed and held it out to Clayton, who took it reluctantly, not wanting to remove his hands from the minor warmth of his coat.

“Here Clay, make me a decency shield, will you?” Matthew was already stripping out of his coat and hat, tossing both haphazardly on the ground. Clayton snorted and got to his feet, stretching the blanket out between both hands to provide some cover as Matthew stripped.

“No shield is gonna make you decent, preacher!” Aly called, not able to resist despite his chattering teeth. Matthew flipped him off and kept stripping, now down to his skivvies. Clayton didn’t think he’d ever seen him strip so fast, and that was saying something.

“If y'all want to snuggle in, be my guest, I don’t care.” And with that he transformed, shifting quickly to his enormous bear self. Clayton went and wrapped Matthew’s extra blanket around Miriam and Arabella, then started retrieving Matthew’s clothes and shoving them into his saddlebag. Matthew lay down as close to the fire as he dared, eyes already slipping closed in contentment at his newfound warmth.

“Feel better, Matty?” he asked quietly, coming to lean against Matthew’s side and bury his cold fingers deep in his warm fur. Matthew chuffed happily but didn’t move, too drowsy to bother.

“I’ve never wished I was a werebear more than I have at this exact moment,” Arabella muttered, buried under their blankets and huddled into Miriam’s side. Clayton could see her shaking from across the fire, her lean form doing nothing to keep her warm.

“Bella, come cuddle with Matty. You too, Miriam, the both of you look freezing.” They exchanged glances, then looked at Matthew for confirmation. Matthew whined and sprawled even further across the ground in a clear invitation. “C’mon, he’s warm as shit, and he said it’d be fine.”

Arabella didn’t wait for further confirmation, and in a split second she was hauling Miriam closer and burying her face and hands in Matthew’s fur. “Oh my God, he’s so _warm_ ,” came the muffled exclamation. Miriam pulled her back with a laugh and laid a blanket on the ground, then tugged Arabella down so they could both lay curled beside Matthew’s belly. He lay a heavy paw over both of them, snuffling at Arabella’s hair until giggles emerged from where she had re-buried her face in his fur.

“Never thought I’d be spooning with a preacher, let alone a preacher who's a bear,” Arabella said, rolling over so her back was to Matthew and tugging Miriam closer. Miriam laughed and wrapped the blanket more securely around them, shivers already starting to ease.

Clayton watched them with a smile, then glanced over at Aly, who was still huddled by the fire and shivering. “C’mon Aloysius, you too.” Aly glared at him half-heartedly and he grinned back. When Aly didn’t move Clayton stood up and walked over, reaching down and pulling him to his feet.

“C’mon, Aly, come join our cuddle pile!” Miriam called, echoed by Arabella. “We’ll be nice and toasty soon!” Clayton quirked an eyebrow in question and Aly huffed and nodded, following his lead. Clayton laughed and pushed him gently around Matthew, laying another blanket down beside his back.

“We’ll be chivalrous and led the ladies be Matty’s little spoons,” Clayton said with a grin, gesturing for Aly to lay down. “I’ve cuddled with fuzzy Matty plenty of times, ‘s your turn.” He didn’t mention that Aly looked far colder than he felt, and his quietness was making him worried.

“Normally I’d say fuck your chivalry but tonight I’ll let it stand,” came Arabella’s groggy voice from the other side of Matthew. Clayton laughed and looked to Aly, who lay down without complaint, settling his back against Matthew’s and huddling close with a groan of relief.

“How is he this fucking warm already? Damn unfair, is what it is,” Aly said, tucking his booted feet underneath Matthew’s back. Clayton lay down beside him, and was immediately hauled in close by Aly. “Now don’t think I’m getting any ideas, preacher, spooning your man, ‘s just warmer this way.”

Clayton tugged a blanket up over them as Matthew gave an amused snort. “Don’t think he’s worried about that, Aly.” It _was_ warmer, despite the cold ground beneath him and the frigid air nipping at his nose. He could already feel his body warming up and relaxing, and his eyes slipping closed. He pulled the blanket up further around his face, and Aly nestled in even closer.

“Night y’all,” he whispered, and received a quiet chorus of “goodnights" and one chuff in response. _Not every day you have a cuddle pile_ , he thought, drifting off into slumber. _There are certainly worse ways to spend a night._


	12. In which Matthew is definitely not sick, thank you very much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew most definitely does _not_ have a cold, because that is a human thing. Clayton thinks otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting around to posting some of my backlog of ficlets! More should be up in the next week or so.

Clayton flipped a pancake as the sound of shuffling echoed in from the living room. Matthew was up late this morning, but that was fairly normal during the colder months of the year. Clayton had started cooking because he’d found that the best way to lure the other man out of bed was with a hot breakfast, ideally paired with something sweet. Pancakes doused in syrup or honey was the perfect combination, and typically became a regular part of their diet in the winter.

“Morning sweetheart,” he called. “Pancakes'll be ready soon.”

A loud sneeze came from the living room in response, followed quickly by four more in quick succession.

Clayton frowned. “You alright, Matty?”

The only response was a miserable groan. Clayton took the skillet off the stove and followed the noise, leaning over the back of the couch to where Matthew was curled around a cushion. Clayton took in his red nose, wheezy breaths, and the hankey clutched tight in one hand.

“Morning.” Matthew sounded _miserable_ , and the expression on his face didn’t look any better.

“Hey there sweetie.” Clayton leaned over the couch and pressed a kiss to Matthew’s hair. “How you feeling? Sounds like you caught a cold.”

“No, ‘m fine.” Clayton frowned and pressed the back of his hand against Matthew’s forehead, which was hot even for the werebear.

“Think you might be sick, Matty.”

Matthew groaned and smushed his face into a pillow. “No, ‘m not sick. Werebears don’t _get_ sick. We're too hearty for that. Being sick is a human thing.”

Clayton grinned and ruffled his hair. “Think we have evidence to the contrary, sweetheart.”

Matthew pouted up at him then blew his nose loudly. “But I _never_ get sick!” His declaration was followed by another series of loud sneezes, then a groan as Matthew slumped further into the couch.

“Uh huh. Sure. Well, I’ll just go make some tea for my very not-sick husband then, how does that sound?”

“Make it chamomile?”

Clayton snagged a blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Matthew, tucking him in then kissing his forehead. “I’ll even add honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can now be found on the tumblr! Come yell at me [here](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) if you want?


	13. In which Clayton is very cold, and Matthew breaks a bed

It was the coldest night they'd seen that winter, and Clayton couldn't stop shivering under their quilts, even with Matthew radiating heat next to him. It was just so fucking _cold_ , and he was trying very hard not to shove his cold feet under Matthew’s legs and keep him awake too. _I’m wearing two pairs of socks, you’d think my feet would be toasty._

Matthew’s sleepy voice sounded out beside him. "Clay, you're freezing. C'mere."

 _Oh, thank Christ._ Clayton rolled closer and tucked his cold nose into Matthew’s neck, then shoved his fingers under Matthew’s shirt and against his skin. He only felt a tiny bit guilty when Matthew jumped, but then Matthew’s arms were around him and things were a little bit better.

He tried to fall asleep, he really did, but even with Matthew wrapped around him he was still so fucking cold. And he was still fucking shivering.

"Alright, this ain't working, give me a sec." Matthew’s arm loosened from around his waist, then started shoving quilts off of them. Clayton huddled into the warm spot left on the bed and whined at the rush of cold against his skin.

"Hmm? Matty, what -"

Matthew shoved him to the edge, stripped off his nightshirt, and then shifted, right in the middle of their goddamn bed. Which, although sturdy wood, was definitely not designed to hold 1200 pounds of bear plus a grown ass man.

“ _Fuck_ –“

The bed broke, of course, sending Clayton falling against Matthew in a flurry of limbs and blankets.

And then Clayton was cold, _and_ the bed was broken. He struggled to sit up and looked at the very sheepish looking grizzly.

"Didn't think that one through, did you?" Clayton liked to believe he would have sounded angrier if his teeth hadn’t been chattering together. But they were, so he just sounded cold. Matthew nuzzled close and whined in apology, then gently nudged Clayton towards the edge of the broken bed. Clayton sighed and went, dragging pillows and blankets along with him.

Once he was out of the bed Matthew dragged the blankets from his hands, then pawed them into a nest. He butted Clayton into the middle of it with his giant head, then sat down beside him, looking at him expectantly.

Clayton sighed. “Alright, alright.” He curled up under the blankets, and soon Matthew’s heavy warmth wrapped it’s way around him. Clayton shoved his toes and face into Matthew’s fur, and soon felt himself start to relax.

 _Gotta give it to you, Matty, this ain’t the worst idea you’ve ever had. It’s working, even if it cost us a bed._ It wasn’t long before Clayton was toasty warm and drifting off to sleep.

"Just not on the goddamn bed next time, Matty." He mumbled, half asleep. Matthew rumbled back and licked the top of his hair, and then they were both asleep and it was forgotten.

(At least until morning, when Clayton took great joy in teasing Matthew about breaking their bed, and "not even in a fun way, Reverend!" Matthew just blushed, and grumbled back, and promised to start working on a new bedframe. A sturdier one, this time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can now be found on the tumblr! Come yell at me [here](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) if you want?


	14. In which Clayton cannot keep his blood inside his body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for this one: mild gore, lots of blood, and lots and lots of angst. This is not a light fluffy chapter, if you need to avoid it please do so <3 
> 
> For those of you who have been asking for Matthew's werebear origin story - part of this chapter dips into it a little bit. Apologies if it's not what you were hoping for, it's what felt like a good fit to me!

“It would be very nice,” Matthew said through gritted teeth, “if you would learn to keep your blood inside your body.” He pressed his hands harder against Clayton’s chest and tried to ignore the warmth seeping between his fingers.

Clayton laughed, a shallow, wheezing thing. “Sorry preacher. Just thought I’d add a bit more colour to my wardrobe, y’know?”

Matthew tsked, glancing behind him to see if Arabella was anywhere close yet. “Next time try a bandana or a nice shirt like the rest of us. Something a bit less hazardous to acquire?”

“I’ll try,” Clayton slurred, blood now flecking his lips. “No promises though.”

Clayton's fingers wrapped sluggishly around Matthew’s wrist, pale against the tan of his skin. “Matthew.”

Matthew looked at his face, trying to ignore how pale it was, trying to ignore the lump in his own throat.

“Yeah?”

“The answer is yes. Okay?” His voice was soft but insistent, gaze steady. “If this is it, the answer is yes.”

Matthew’s stomach dropped. “No. No, no, no, don’t you fucking tell me that. You’re going to be just fine, you hear? It won’t get to that.”

Clayton smiled. “It might.”

“No it fucking _w_ _ill not_.” Matthew whipped his head around frantically, raising his voice to a bellow. “ _BELLA, WE NEED YOU!_ ”

Clayton grunted as Matthew leaned harder on his chest, coughing at the sudden increases weight.

“Matty. Matty.” He patted Matthew’s face clumsily until Matthew stopped yelling and looked at him. His hand dropped, leaving a wet sticky smear on Matthew’s cheek. “’S okay, Matty.” He grinned, too much teeth and too much blood, and Matthew hated the man who did this with a renewed vigour.

“Always wondered what it would be like to be a werebear.”

“Clayton, don’t – it ain’t –“

He was interrupted by Arabella, who skidded to a stop and dropped to her knees beside him, opening her bag and pulling out a flask and needle and thread.

“Matthew, I need to see it, you need to move.”

He could only stare at her, mind still spinning around Clayton’s request. Gentle hands touched his shoulders as Aly appeared on the other side of Clayton, taking medical supplies as Arabella handed them to him.

“C’mon sugar,” Miriam said in his ear, tugging him backwards. “Let’s let them work.”

He looked at Clayton’s ashen face. He was somehow still conscious, and he squeezed Matthew’s wrist lightly.

“Don’t let me die, Matty,” he slurred. “Please.”

Arabella pushed Matthew away from the wound as Clayton’s eyelids fluttered shut, hand slackening around Matthew’s wrist. Matthew couldn’t even describe the sound that escaped him as he stumbled to his feet, hands sticky with blood. Miriam pulled him away and he finally looked at her, wide-eyed and desperate.

“Miriam, he wants me to… if he ain't gonna make it, I gotta…” he choked on the lump in his throat, words catching and seizing.

Miriam looked at his face, then at Clayton, at Arabella and Aly frantically stitching him together. Her face grew pale and grim.

“Go,” she said, shoving him towards the woods.

Matthew stumbled backwards. “What…”

“Go shift,” she said, determination flaring in her eyes. “We don’t have your bags, whether or not you turn him you’re gonna need wearable clothes.”

“I can’t leave him -"

She shoved him again, putting all the strength in her smaller frame to the task. “Go. Be quick about it.”

Matthew finally nodded, then ran for the trees.

Miriam yelled after him. “And Matthew?” He paused and looked back. “You hear me holler, you get your ass back here as fast as you can.”

* * *

Matthew changed with shaking hands, the bloody handprints smeared across his clothing an inevitability. He shifted, bellowing his grief to the treetops, then barreled back to the clearing as fast as he could. Clayton was where he had left him, three people working over him frantically. They barely looked up when he broke through the brush.

_Miriam must have warned them._

The scent of blood was thick in the air, lying heavy over everything. His _mate's_ blood, a scent that he knew far better than he should. And underneath it he could make out the stench of fear and stress emanating from everyone, including himself. It was overwhelming, and brought a sickening clarity to the seriousness of the situation. The rage that had been simmering flared to life, and he couldn’t stop the low growl that tugged his lips back from his teeth, or the way he paced rapidly back and forth, always keeping Clayton in sight.

It passed almost as soon as it came, as fear swept in and almost stole his breath. He was rarely afraid in this form, too sure of his fangs and his claws and the thickness of his hide to worry for his own safety. But this? This was something he could hardly face.

He gathered his courage and circled around to Clayton’s head, nosing at his slack face with mournful moan. Clayton didn’t move. Matthew lay down at his head, tucked his nose into Clayton’s neck, and listened to the faint sound of his breathing.

_Not until it fails. Not until he falls._

* * *

~ _One and a half years ago ~_

_Matthew turned the page of his book from where is was propped on Clayton’s back. They were curled together in bed, Clayton’s head on his chest, Matthew’s arms wrapped around him as he finished his chapter before bed. He was surprised when Clayton spoke, sure he’d fallen asleep some time ago._

_“Matty, when were you turned?”_

_“Hmm?” He closed his book, keeping one finger on his page, and looked down at Clayton with one eyebrow raised._

_“When were you turned into a werebear?”_

_Matthew laughed. “Never was, actually.” Clayton looked up at him in surprise and he grinned. “My mother is a werebear. I’m one of the lucky ones.”_

_Clayton’s brow wrinkled. “The lucky ones?”_

_Matthew nodded. “Being bitten isn’t an especially… pleasant experience, from what I understand. Carries a lot of risk, too, not everyone makes it through the transformation process. It’s a lot for a body to handle.” He shuddered at the memory of the last transformation he’d seen, so many years ago._

_“Huh.” Clayton nestled his head against Matthew’s chest again, and Matthew figured that was it. He was trying to focus back on his book when Clayton spoke again, quieter this time._

_“Would you ever turn me? If I was dying?”_

_Matthew put his book down. “What?”_

_Clayton shrugged. “Life we lead, can’t help but feel…”_

_Matthew rolled them over, pinning Clayton the bed and burying his face in his neck, listening to the thud of his heart and the feel of his pulse._

_“I won’t let that happen. I won’t.”_

_“Matty,” Clayton whispered, stroking both hands down his back soothingly. Matthew clung tighter. “Shit happens, you know that.”_

_“You have no idea the risk,” Matthew whispered into his neck. “You don’t know what it’s like to see your father torn apart by the very thing that should make him stronger.”_

_“Matty?” Clayton tried to look at his face but Matthew burrowed in closer. “What do you mean?”_

_Matthew shuddered. The tale poured out, faster than he could stop it. “Pa got bit. My sister Emma got hurt when she was shifted, real bad, she was… she was so hurt, and she was so little.” Clayton’s hand smoothed circles around his back, and Matthew forced himself to breathe. “Ma wasn’t home, and we had to stop the bleeding, but she wasn’t – she wasn’t okay, she was scared, and so goddamn **little**.” _

_Clayton stroked his hair. “Don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, love.”_

_He let the beat of Clayton’s heart fill his ears, then continued. “She bit him. She didn’t mean to, but she did, and he – he fucking -"_

_Tears soaked Clayton’s neck, and he felt a kiss pressed to his forehead._

_“He died. The transformation tore him apart, and put him back together all wrong. Limbs going the wrong way, neck cracked backwards… I still, I still remember the sound of his spine breaking.” He shuddered again. “Ma had to end his life when she came home. Emma was too little to remember, but I do.” He choked out a bitter laugh. “Remember every damn bit.”_

_Clayton hugged him tighter. “I’m so sorry, love. So sorry that happened, and that you had to see it.”_

_He pressed a kiss to Clayton's neck. “I can’t put you through that, Clay. It ain’t an option. Not unless it was the only one left, not unless you were already dead.”_

_Clayton nodded. “I know, love. I know.”_

_“But I would. If I had no other choice. I wouldn’t risk you for anything less.”_

_“… and if I said no?”_

_Matthew propped himself up on his elbows, staring into Clayton’s eyes. He couldn’t see anything there, no hint of whatever he wanted or needed to hear._

_“It would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I would let you pass. I won’t turn you against your will, Clay.”_

_Clayton nodded and nudged closer to kiss him. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I know it ain’t fair to ask, so thank you.”_

_Matthew kissed back, soft and slow, trying not to let his sorrow bleed through. He hated conversations like this, hated being reminded of the fragility of his partner’s life. But he was only human, and it did not do Matthew well to forget._

_When Clayton broke the kiss Matthew buried his face back in his neck, nose tucked against his pulse point._

_“What’s brought all this on?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer._

_Clayton pressed a kiss to his hair. “Nothing in particular,” he murmured, “just thinking.”_

* * *

~ Now, later ~

Matthew sat beside their bed, watching the rise and fall of Clayton’s chest. The book he had brought in lay forgotten in his lap, just a pretense of activity should one of their friends come to check on him. It was always hard to focus when Clayton was injured, and today was no exception. It said something about their lives that this was something Matthew knew and accepted, that he’d spent more time at his partner’s bedside for some injury or other than most men would in their entire lives.

 _Too damn fragile,_ he thought, knowing that Clayton would forever disagree. _Too damn easy to hurt._

He was so transfixed, so intent on the rhythm of Clayton’s breath, that he almost missed when he began to stir. First a finger, then a hand, then his face scrunched up in pain. Matthew leaned forward and took his hand, book clattering to the floor.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, scooching his chair closer. Clayton rolled his head towards him and cracked open his eyes. Matthew smiled, or tried to at least.

Clayton smiled back, then winced. “Hurts,” he muttered, free hand clumsily pawing at his chest. Matthew caught it gently, smiling when Clayton frowned.

“I know, darlin', I know it does. Try not to touch it though, alright?”

“’Kay,” Clayton muttered, eyes slipping closed again as he sagged back against the pillows. Matthew let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and gave Clayton’s hands a squeeze before letting go. Clayton’s eyes cracked back open, and he caught one of Matthew’s hand before he could move away.

“Did you bite me?” he slurred. His face was hard to read, every emotions covered by a thick layer of exhaustion and pain.

Matthew’s heart ticked upwards as he shook his head, terrified that he had done the wrong thing. “No. You never stopped breathing.”

“Oh. ’S good, I guess.” He frowned, then wrinkled his nose. “Be pissed if I was a bear an' it still hurt this much.”

Matthew laughed, and felt some of the tension flee his body. He turned his hand over in Clayton’s and tangled their fingers together. “It still hurts as a werebear, I’m afraid. Just normally not for quite so long.”

“That’s good,” he mumbled, head lolling against the pillow as his eyes slid closed again. “Don’t want you to hurt, Matty.”

A lump settled in his throat, and he blinked back tears. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want you to hurt either.”

Clayton hummed, then dragged his eyes open to peer at Matthew’s face again. Matthew smiled, but must not have succeeded overly well, because Clayton frowned and tugged on his hand.

“C'mere.”

“What?” Matthew moved his chair closer, but Clayton shook his head, tugging his hand more insistently.

“Come cuddle me.”

Matthew hovered over the bed. “Clay, you’re injured…”

Clayton gave a lop-sided smile. “’S fine, jus' don’t tell ‘Bella.”

Matthew laughed and gave in, climbing on the bed and laying down gingerly beside him. Clayton tugged his arm until Matthew set his hand lightly on Clayton’s hip, curling in close enough that Clayton could feel his body heat. Clayton hummed in satisfaction and tipped his head close to Matthew’s on the pillow.

“Only a matter of time,” Clayton murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You know that, right?”

He did, knew it down to his bones. It had been _so close_ , so goddamn close to being a necessity. And someday all of Arabella’s medical knowledge wouldn’t be enough, and they’d have to take the gamble and hope for the best. He didn’t want to see Clayton forced through the transformation for anything less, couldn’t bear the thought of the shift killing him. He’d hear too many stories of transformations gone wrong, men and women twisted into gruesome forms, spines and limbs fused the wrong way.

“I know,” he choked out, the tangle in his chest growing bigger. “I know.”

Clayton just nodded, breath evening out as he fell back asleep. So Matthew did what he always did; he pressed a kiss to Clayton’s hair, inhaled until the scent and feel and _l_ _ife_ of him filled his lungs, and reveled in the fact that he was still here.

_That’s enough for now; it has to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can now be found on the tumblr! Come yell at me [here](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) if you want?


	15. In which Matthew's arm is sore, and he is grumpy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to afearsomecritter for the prompt for this one!

“Fucking _shit_.” Matthew scowled down at the coffee splattered across the floor, tin mug rolling beside it. “Goddamn fucking _arm_ -"

“Matty?” Clayton poked his head into the kitchen, then came into the room, concern painted across his face. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fucking _fine_ ,” Matthew grumbled, bending down to pick up the mug with his left hand.

“… you forget and use your bad arm?” Clayton asked, trying not to smile at the grumpy expression on Matthew’s face. He grabbed a towel from the table and crouched down to start wiping up the mess. “Hey, let me.”

“Why’d they have to shoot me in the fucking _elbow_?” Matthew whined. He set down the mug and picked up coffee pot from the stove, pouring a new cup. “It’s the _worst_ fucking place to shoot, takes forever to heal.”

“I know, I’m sorry darlin',” Clayton soothed, hanging the towel up then crossing over to give Matthew a kiss. “At least you’ll be healed in a couple days, that’s not so bad.”

Matthew scowled and huffed. “Doesn’t make it better now. I can’t even read and drink my coffee at the same time, it’s too hard to turn the pages.”

Clayton nodded and managed not to grin. Matthew was just so _cute_ when he was pissy, not that Clayton would ever tell him that. It tended to bring out some of his more bear-like huffs and grumbles and Clayton always had to fight not hide his smiles when it happened. “I know. Here, why don’t I read to you? That way you can just drink your coffee and listen.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You hate reading.”

Clayton flushed and gestured Matthew towards the sitting room. “Yeah, it’s not my favourite.” Matthew scoffed and he relented. “Fine, I hate it. I’m just bad at it, y'know? But if you can deal with my stumbling through words then I can read to you while you drink your coffee.”

Matthew’s face softened, and he moved in closer, leaning down to give Clayton a kiss. “Thank you, love. I’d like that. And you’re not bad at reading, I love listening to you.”

Clayton smiled and pushed him into the living room. “Yeah, yeah, go sit down and I’ll grab your book.” He walked over to their small bookshelf. “What are we reading?”

“The Bible, want to read through Hebrews for my sermon on Sunday.” Clayton groaned and Matthew laughed. “You can’t take it back, Clay, I’m _injured_.”

Clayton grabbed Matthew’s heavy Bible and hauled it over to the couch, sitting down beside Matthew and starting to flip through the pages. “You just want to make me suffer because you’re suffering, is that it?”

Matthew huffed and took a sip of his coffee. “You don’t have to, Clay.”

“No, no, said I would.” He finally found the start of the book and bent over the pages, shifting closer so that his thigh was resting against Matthew’s. He smiled at the hum Matthew gave in response, then started reading. “In the past God spoke to…”


	16. In which Arabella teaches Matthew the latin name for grizzly bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Amaronith for the prompt for this one!

“What kind of bear are you, again?”

Matthew raised his eyebrow at Arabella. “A grizzly, Arabella. I thought you knew that?”

She nodded sagely, and put a hand to her chin. “I should have known, you _are_ rather horrible.”

He gaped at her as Aly and Clayton burst into laughter. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ursus arctos horribilis,” she said with a grin. “The horrible brown bear.”

“Oh my god, _really_?” Aly gasped, clutching his sides. “We could have been using this for _months_.”

“Is it because he’s horrible and scary or because he’s horrible at being a brown bear?” Clayton giggled, dancing out of the way of Matthew’s half-hearted swat.

“Hard to say, really,” Arabella put on her most professional scientist voice. “Take Exhibit A, one Matthew Mason, werebear of the Grizzly variety. On the one hand, he tears the heads off men. On the other, he pouted all last week because berry season is over.” Matthew turned red and rolled his eyes.

“Ha ha. You’re all hilarious.”

Arabella grinned. “Thank you, Matthew, I thought so as well. I was quite pleased with that find, I must say.”

“You would be,” Matthew grumbled good-naturedly. “Well, I’m going to step away and shift so I don’t end up busting my clothes mid-fight again.”

“It would be rather horrible of you to do that, wouldn’t it?” Aly called as he walked away. Matthew gave him the finger over his shoulder and kept walking, ignoring the echoes of laughter that rang out behind him.

A few minutes later he returned, dropping a mouthful of clothing beside Clayton, who grinned and started stuffing them into his bag.

“Sorry Matty, it’s just too perfect.”

Matthew snorted and poked him in the ribs, then sent a suffering glance at Miriam, who had just returned from her own excursion up ahead.

“Alright, think I found the best spot.” She raised an eyebrow at Matthew’s miserable expression. “What’s wrong with the Reverend?”

Arabella came closer and set a hand on his head, stroking his ears. “He’s just a bit grumpy is all.” Her voice dropped to a coo as though sweet-talking a dog, and Matthew’s ears flattened back against his skull. “It’s okay Matthew, we know you're big and bad. You’re a very horrible werebear, yes you _are_.”

Matthew groaned and sent another suffering look at Miriam as Clayton and Aly just laughed.

Miriam grinned. “Sorry sweetie, can’t help you there.”

Arabella dropped a kiss to the top of his head and Matthew groaned again. “He loves me so he won’t hurt me, isn’t that right Matty? Even if he is a horrible horrible bear.”

Matthew just pouted.


	17. In which the horses have run away, and Clayton is very tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to HawthornShadow and Mooimagoldfish for the prompts for this one! (At least I am 95% sure it was from you two - I didn't write it down and wrote this a while back, but remember taking a few prompts and smooshing them together to make whatever this is. So if someone else prompted it instead, apologies!!)

“C’mon, Clay.”

“No.”

“Clayton. C’mon, you’re _exhausted_. Shit, you were tired even _before_ we knew we had a few hours of walking to do.”

“I’m _fine_ , Reverend. ”

“Oh, we’re at _Reverend_ levels of grump, are we? Look, just -" Matthew grabbed Clayton’s elbow and tugged him to a halt. It wasn’t a difficult task. Clayton was swaying where he stood, dark circles smudged under his eyes, face drawn and pale. The scowl plastered across his face might have deterred other men, but Matthew knew better.

He cupped Clayton’s face between his palms, thumbs stroking gently along his cheeks. Clayton blinked up at him, scowl melting away into a look of pure weariness. “Sweetheart. I _know_ you. Hills like this, and you tired as you are, it’s only a matter of time before you crash.”

Clayton grimaced at the memory of the last time this had happened. Matthew hadn’t been there, but he’d seen the aftermath of Clayton tripping down a hill when he and Aly had been forced to take the long way back home without any horses, and it hadn’t been pretty. Clayton was just too goddamn _stubborn_ , and refused to rest until he was forced to.

Clayton sighed and wrapped a hand around Matthew’s wrist. “Could just sit for a bit,” he mumbled, head leaning heavily into Matthew’s palm. “Take a rest.”

“Pretty sure you need more than that, sweetheart. This’ll get us home faster, get you to a real bed. I know you don’t like it but it’s our best option.” Clayton’s eyes slipped closed, and Matthew knew that he had won. “Clay. You’re falling asleep where you stand, love.”

Clayton groaned and blinked his eyes back open, whole body slumping in defeat. “Fine, guess we’ll do it your way.”

Matthew smiled and kissed him on the brow, then started stripping out of his clothes and stuffing them into his bag. Clayton sat down to wait, head resting in his hands.

“Stupid fucking horses,” he mumbled, eyes already drifting closed again. “Fucking spooking and running away. Hope they get eaten.”

Matthew laughed and took Clayton’s satchel from him, tying the handles of their two bags together. “We do seem to have the worst luck with horses, don’t we? Here.” He dumped the bags in Clayton’s lap. “Sling these over my back, okay?”

Clayton nodded, eyes still closed, and Matthew took that as his cue to transform. Once he had shifted he padded over and nosed at Clayton, who patted his head with a heavy hand.

“Could just nap, Matty,” he mumbled, trying to wrap his arms around Matthew’s neck. “You're warm enough out here.”

Matthew growled a little and poked him solidly in the ribs with his nose.

“Fuck, _fine_ , I’m up.” Clayton clambered to his feet, one hand fisted in Matthew’s fur to assist him, and slung the bags behind Matthew’s shoulders. “Crouch down a bit, will you?”

Matthew lay down on the ground, and Clayton swung himself astride his broad back. He held tight to handfuls of fur as Matthew stood carefully, then started lumbering towards home.

“Matty?” Matthew whined to show he was listening. “’S not that I don’t like it. Just… don’t like needing it, I guess.” Clayton’s voice was small, and Matthew’s heart ached. Of course Clayton would wait until he couldn’t respond to say something like that. He swung his head around and gave his best chuff, hoping that Clayton got the message that he understood.

But Clayton wasn’t paying attention. His head had already started to droop, eyes closed and face slack with sleep. Matthew stopped and waited for a moment, then another, until Clayton face planted into his fur. _Finally_ , he thought smugly, continuing towards Deadwood at an unhurried pace, listening to the soft snores of his partner. _Was only a matter of time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on the tumblr! Come yell at me [here](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) if you want? I'm also currently accepting prompts for this 'verse! So if you have things you'd like to see, throw me an ask!


	18. In which Matthew eats all the things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to savage_starlight for the prompt for this one! They requested "Matthew vs Miriam's cooking" and this is what happened.

“MATTHEW JOHN MASON!”

Matthew froze, fork stuck in his mouth, and turned slowly towards the door. _Shit_.

Miriam stood in the doorway, glaring furiously at him. She stomped over, five feet of wrath, and tugged the pie plate out of his hands. He made a wounded noise but let it go.

“Reverend, I have told you a _thousand times_ not to eat my goddamn pies before dinner! And right from the plate!!”

He took the fork out of his mouth and tried to look innocent. From the way her eyebrows pinched, Miriam wasn’t buying it.

“But it’s _peach_ pie, Miriam, you know that’s my favourite!”

She smacked the hand that crept towards the plate. Matthew pouted and shook his hand out, gazing mournfully at the pie.

“Your _favourite,_ huh? I seem to recall you sayin' that elderberry was your favourite. Or was it cherry?”

“He told me apple,” Clayton called from the sitting room.

“Clayton!” Matthew shot a betrayed look at the doorway, where Clayton emerged not a moment later. “You’re supposed to take my side!”

Clayton laughed. “Sorry Matty, you’re on your own for this one. You'd eat every sweet thing in sight if you had your way.” 

“I would _not_.” He could tell that neither of them believed him, most likely because it was a lie and he knew damn well knew it. “Your pie is just so excellent, Miss Miriam, I couldn’t help myself.”

Miriam shook her head and put the pie back on the counter. “Reverend, I love you, but get the hell out of my kitchen before I smack you again.”

He grumbled and slouched out of the kitchen, Clayton laughing and following close behind.

* * *

“ _REVEREND_!”

It was cookies this time, chocolate chip and gooey in the centre. He’d already eaten three by the time Miriam found him, cookie jar under his arm, one stuck in his mouth, looking guiltier than sin.

“Reverend, I swear to _God_ -"

In a familiar scene she marched across the kitchen, reaching for the cookie jar and scowling. He scrambled backwards and swung it up and over his head, scarfing down the one in his mouth. He shoved another one in his mouth as she grabbed at his arms, trying to bring them down to her level.

“ _Matthew!!_ ” she screeched, hauling as hard as she could. “Stop eating all my damned cookies! You’re going to eat me out of house and home!”

“I’m still hungry!” He protested, cramming another two cookies into his mouth and mumbling around them. “I’m a werebear, Miriam! We eat a lot!”

“You ate almost a whole damn roast, Matthew!!”

He finally relented and gave back the cookie jar, now missing half its contents. Miriam took it with a scowl.

“And don’t you _dare_ say you’re a growing boy.”

He grinned, then slipped past her and out of the kitchen, stuffing another cookie in his mouth as he went.

“ _And don’t think I didn’t notice that one_!”

* * *

“I’m going to _murder_ that man,” Miriam hissed, stalking into the sitting room. Matthew cowered behind a cushion, then pulled Clayton closer in an attempt to hide.

“ _You_!” She pointed a wooden spoon at Matthew. Clayton tried to move out of the line of fire but Matthew held on, ducking behind his shoulder and pulling Clayton onto his lap. “Don’t you hide behind Clayton, you face me like the cake-thieving bear you are!!”

“Matty, did you eat the fuckin'cake ?” Clayton elbowed him in the side, but Matthew held on tight.

“I didn’t steal anything!”

Miriam shook the spoon and walked closer. “So a random grizzly just _happened_ to wander by and steal one of the cakes right from my windowsill? Is that it? I found the footprints, Reverend, I know what a bear paw looks like.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Matthew said weakly.

She dropped the spoon on the coffee table and grabbed a cushion, then started beating Matthew over the head with it. Clayton squawked and ducked his head under his arms as Matthew used him as a shield.

“Stop! Stealing! My! _Baking!!”_ She hit him one last time, then shook the pillow threateningly. “Or I won’t feed you again!”

Matthew emerged from behind Clayton to give the saddest (and guiltiest) puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!”

Clayton elbowed Matthew again and finally slid off his lap. Miriam shook her head, scooped up her spoon, and stalked back to the kitchen.

“Ain’t lyin' a sin?” Aly asked, laughing.

“I ain’t lying.”

“Uh huh, sure you ain’t. Just like you ain’t secretly a giant bear, is that it?”

Matthew threw the cushion at him, then scowled when he and Arabella just laughed harder.

“They’re picking on me,” he said to Clayton, pouting a little. Clayton grinned and ruffled his hair.

“Think you deserve it, cake thief. You’re just lucky there’s two or I’m pretty sure we'd be preparin' a burial right now.”

Matthew just pouted harder.

* * *

“Oh my _GOD_ -" Miriam’s shriek was loud enough to wake the dead, but somehow not loud enough to wake the bear sleeping in her kitchen.

“What happened -" Aly and Clayton burst into the kitchen behind her, Arabella hot on their heels. They stopped short at the sight of Matthew, passed out in his bear form, a turkey carcass lying on the ground by his head. Aly burst out laughing as Clayton tucked his pistol away, shaking his head. Arabella sighed and slipped between them, then put a calming hand on Miriam’s back.

“Well, now we know where he’s been for the last ten minutes.”

Miriam was shaking. She grabbed a rolling pin off the table and made for Matthew.

“Miriam, wait -" Arabella wrapped her arms around Miriam’s waist and hauled her backwards before she could smack Matthew with the rolling pin.

“Lemme at him,” Miriam snarled, struggling in her hold. “This is a justified murder, Sherriff Bullock would support me -"

Aly pulled the rolling pin from her hands. “As much as I’d love to help, we can’t kill him, Miriam. Clayton would be so _sad_.”

Miriam shrieked again, and Clayton snorted.

“Not right now, I wouldn’t. I like turkey.” He walked over to Matthew and crouched down by his head. “Matty.” He shook Matthew’s massive furry shoulder. “Matty, c’mon, wake the fuck up.”

Matthew snorted, lolled his head to the side, and kept snoring. Clayton shook him again.

“Wake up, you gluttonous asshole.”

There was no response. He looked back at the others and scratched his head.

“Any ideas? Other than killing him, that is.”

Miriam scowled. “He can survive a beating.”

“We could just eat all the desserts Miriam hid without him,” Arabella piped up, arms still wrapped around Miriam lest she decide to make good on her threat. “He’d deserve it.”

“You hid the desserts?” Clayton started laughing, followed closely by Aly. Miriam smiled.

“I didn’t want him to eat my pie again,” she said ruefully. “Didn’t think he’d eat the damn turkey instead.”

“What do you say?” Arabella asked. “Desserts for Thanksgiving dinner? Leave Matty here to sleep it off?”

“I hope he gets a stomach ache,” Miriam muttered. “Alright, dessert dinner it is.”

Arabella squeezed her around the waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “If he doesn’t I’ll just curse him for you.”

Miriam smiled, and squeezed her arms, leaning into her hold. “Deal.”

“Please don’t curse my husband,” Clayton said, picking turkey bones off the floor.

“Just a little curse, I promise,” Arabella called over her shoulder as she led Miriam out of the kitchen to go retrieve the hidden desserts. “Nothing permanent, I swear!”

“No curses, ‘Bella!”

Arabella leaned in close and whispered in Miriam’s ear. “I’ve already got one in mind.”

Miriam grinned and pulled her in to a proper kiss. “I can’t wait to see it.”


	19. In which they are lucky bastards

“You make me feel so lucky.”

Matthew turned to look at Clayton, who was watching him, mouth curled into a half smile. He raised an eyebrow and smiled back.

“Why’s that, darlin’?”

Clayton tipped his head to the side, eyes soft, and Matthew put down his book and turned to face him fully.

“Just… never thought I’d find someone, y’know? Wasn’t even looking. But here you are.”

Matthew’s heart melted. He shifted closer, pressing into Clayton’s space so he could pull him into a kiss.

“Glad I found you too, darlin’. We are lucky bastards, aren’t we?”

Clayton hummed and closed his eyes, leaning their foreheads together. “Always thought I was cursed, until I found you.”

Matthew kissed him again. “Maybe we’re both blessed, that we found each other anyway, out here, after all the shit we been through.”

Clayton smiled fondly. “Must be.” He leaned into Matthew, who curled both arms around him, bringing him close to his chest. “I’m glad it was you, though.”

“I’m glad too,” Matthew whispered into his hair. He leaned back until they were sprawled on the sofa, Clayton a comforting weight on his chest. “Because if we ain’t blessed, well… there’s no one I’d rather be cursed with.”

“What a pair we are,” Clayton said, face curving into a grin against his chest. “Talkin’ like we’re in one of Aly’s romance novels.”

Matthew smiled, and smoothed Clayton’s hair back from his face. “Think we deserve a little romance and sweet talkin’, don’t you?”

Clayton curled in closer. “Hope so. ‘Gonna do it anyway, even if we don’t.” He craned his neck back, looking into Matthew’s eyes. “Because you deserve to hear how much I love you, every day, until we’re old, and then some.”

“And then some,” Matthew echoed, pressing a hand to Clayton’s cheek. Clayton shifted and pressed a kiss to his palm, lips soft against his skin. “I can live with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on the tumblr! Come yell at me [here](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) if you want! I'm also currently accepting prompts for this 'verse - pls feel free to throw me an ask if you have things you'd like to see!


	20. In which Clayton meets a bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another whumpy one, folks! TW for: graphic depictions of violence, lots of blood, and an animal attack. Skip this one if you need to!

The noise of breaking bushes and sticks sounded behind him, and Clayton smiled from where he was crouched in front of a blueberry bush. He glanced back quickly, smiling at the sight of the grizzly.

“Hey sweetie,” he called. “Done your run?”

The heavy thud of footsteps sounded closer, then a low growl rumbled through the clearing. Clayton frowned and turned halfway around.

“Sweetie? You okay -" his eyes widened as the grizzly rose up on it’s hind legs. “Oh, _shit_.”

The grizzly roared. Clayton dropped the berry basket and scrambled for his gun. It roared again, then dropped to all fours and charged.

_That’s not Matthew._

The bear was quicker than it had any right to be, making it halfway across the clearing in a matter of seconds. Fear took over all rational thought, and Clayton _bolted_ , pistol in hand. He whipped one arm behind him, firing a shot with only a hope and a prayer that it would hit. The bear bellowed at the sound, and he cursed under his breath.

_Only made it angrier._

He had made it maybe two dozen feet before a heavy paw swiped across his flank, claws raking his side and sending fire shooting through his body. He screamed, tumbling to the ground from the force of the blow.

_Fuck fuck **fuck** -_

“MATTHEW!” He rolled over and fired another shot at the bear, missing it narrowly. The bear flinched away from the sound, but quickly recovered, bellowing out its rage. The sound, normally so comforting, set his heart to racing. “MATTHEW, I _NEED YOU_!”

The bear snarled, and then it was _on him_ , teeth and too many goddamn claws flashing – he screamed again as the bear batted him to the side, claws tearing at his hip and thigh. He focused through the pain and somehow managing to fire off another round, cursing the way his hands were shaking. The bear roared in pain and backed off, and Clayton caught a glimpse of blood streaking it’s shoulder.

The bear snarled and shook it’s head, then stalked forwards intently. Clayton scrambled backwards, dragging his aching leg behind him, then curling into a ball as the bear lunged.

_If **this** is how I die…_

Fangs clamped around his upper arm as a heavy paw landed on him, pinning him to the ground. The teeth tore through muscle and ground against bone, and he screamed again, whole body seizing from the pain. A different, deeper bellow erupted through the clearing, accompanied by the crash of trees and underbrush. The agonizing pain in his arm and side flared to life as the bear clamped down with a snarl, and then it was gone, and Clayton blacked out.

But just for a moment. He spun back into consciousness, hazy and nauseated, to see a much larger grizzly clash with the one that already had blood on it’s claws. They shoved and snarled, claws and fangs flashing in the sunlight, the ground trembling from the weight of them. They were too goddamn _close_ , and could crush him with a misstep, so Clayton started dragging himself away, crawling on his belly with the one leg and one arm that were still moving. His body felt heavy and clumsy, like something had short-circuited in his brain.

The world faded around him. Everything narrowed down to the dirt under his nails and the drag of his body across the ground, the agony radiating through his arm, his hip, his side. And all the while the grunts and roars continued behind him as the bears fought, tearing through the clearing around them.

The sounds faded until all he could hear was a high pitched keening, echoing through his head. Something thudded closer to him, then a bear snarled, and he sobbed, curling in on himself. Then gentle hands pressed against his, _human_ hands.

“Clayton, _oh my God_ -"

He almost blacked out again as Matthew touched his arm, his hip, his side. The keening was louder now, was all he could hear. He tried to speak over it, and it broke, hitching into a garbled cry of pain. Fuck, it was coming from _him._

“You’re okay baby, you’ll be okay -" Matthew’s voice broke on the last word, and he knew it was a lie. Matthew was hysterical in a way he’d never heard him before, frantic and rushed and too goddamn loud. He tried to open his eyes, tried to say something, but nothing would _work_ , too broken to do more than keep up that high-pitched whine. Matthew shushed him, one shaky hand pressing against his cheek.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , please let this work, please God -"

Matthew’s hand grew warm, then _hot_ , unbearably so. Clayton moaned and jerked away but then Matthew’s other hand was there, holding his head in place. Lips brushed against his forehead, and then his whole body lit up.

It seemed to last forever, the burning. It spiraled through him, starting from his head and working its way down his neck, his arms, his torso and legs. It concentrated on the spots that already hurt the worst, tearing him apart anew as he screamed and shook in Matthew’s hold.

But then it was gone, fire dying down to a pleasant heat, something soothing and calm. The pain faded with it, until all that was left was a strange heaviness to his limbs, and the lingering echoes of heat and noise. He exhaled, sagging in Matthew’s grip, suddenly exhausted.

Matthew held him close, lips still pressed against his brow, murmuring something. He could finally make out prayers, uttered over and over and over.

“Matty,” he whispered. Matthew kept praying, so he tried again, dragging heavy arms up to wrap his hands around Matthew’s wrists. “Matthew.”

Matthew started, then looked down at him. “Clay, you’re -" he let him go and pulled back, frantically scanning Clayton’s body. He patted him down, tugging at his torn and bloodied clothing to check for wounds that were no longer present. “- you’re alive, are you okay -"

“Hey.” Clayton caught one of Matthew’s hand, and put his other hand on his cheek, keeping it there until Matthew finally made eye contact. “I’m okay.”

Matthew started crying, heaving sobs that wracked his whole body. He hauled Clayton into his lap and wrapped him up in his arms, burying his face in Clayton’s shoulder. Clayton felt his own eyes fill with tears, all the fear and pain and exhaustion flooding out of him in a rush. He hugged Matthew back, crying as he pressed kiss after kiss into his hair.

They cried until Matthew’s sobs evened out, dying down into hiccups. Clayton wiped his own eyes, then tried to pull back to look at Matthew’s face. Matthew clung tighter, smearing his face on Clayton’s shirt.

“I’m alright, Matty,” he soothed, rubbing Matthew’s back. “I’m here, I ain’t going nowhere.”

Matthew shuddered. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “There was so much blood, Clay.”

“I know.” Clayton could still see the remnants of it on his clothing, on the ground, smeared across Matthew’s body. So much blood. His stomach swooped, and his heart ticked up, panic flooding back in. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Matthew’s neck. Matthew pressed big hands between his shoulder blades, then a kiss to his shoulder.

“Breathe, Clay.”

He did, took one deep breath, then another, in through his mouth so he wouldn’t have to smell the blood. He moved his hands down Matthew’s back, and felt something wet and sticky. More blood. His stomach swooped again.

“You’re hurt,” he said, struggling to back out of Matthew’s hold. Matthew didn’t release his hold, arms an iron band around him, and he settled back into his neck when it became clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Just a few scratches,” Matthew murmured. “I’ll survive.”

Clayton nodded, and wrapped his arms back around Matthew’s shoulders so he couldn’t feel the blood. “Gonna have to let me go sometime,” he whispered into Matthew’s hair.

Matthew shook his head. “Not yet. Not… not yet. I need to hear your heartbeat, Clay. Need to know you’re alive.”

Clayton almost cried again. “Okay,” he whispered. “Take as long as you need, love.”

They stayed like that until Clayton started shivering, blood soaked clothes sticking to his skin. Matthew let him go, and let him look at his wounds, tracing gentle fingers over the scratches across his body. He dressed, and Clayton gathered up his gun and his bag, and then they left and went back home.

And if Matthew noticed Clayton slipping his hand under his shirt to feel the ridges of freshly formed scar tissue, he never said anything. And if Clayton noticed the way Matthew hovered, hands reaching for him constantly, he didn’t say anything either. Just took Matthew’s hand in his, and let him lead them home. When they were back in the safety of their own space they poured a bath and washed each other clean. Clayton tended Matthew’s wounds, and Matthew touched his new scars with fresh tears in his eyes. Then they curled up in bed, wrapped close around each other, and finally felt themselves start to settle, start to mend the hurt that the day had brought.

(They both would have liked to pretend that that was it. That things were fine. They were both whole, weren’t they? But the next time Matthew shifted Clayton could barely contain his panic; and each night for weeks they woke each other up with nightmares; and Clayton couldn’t stop touching his scars, couldn’t stop confirming that the healing was real and he was fine. Matthew couldn’t stop touching him either, couldn’t let him out of his sight. The panic was new, the fear of _what if what if what if._

These things take time, they say. And they were right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. The poor lads. I wasn't sure if this one fit with the theme of this collection, but thought I'd post it anyway. I should have something softer up in the next little while to make up for it <3


	21. In which Matthew tries to be a helpful werebear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a hot minute, huh? I did not intend to wait so long to update this, but forgot that I had a couple finished prompts sitting around and left it for a few months XD Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to amaronith for the prompt for this one - "Arabella’s shoe is broken. Matthew forgets he is a bear and tries to help fix it."

“Matthew, what on _earth_ -“

Arabella crouched beside Matthew, who rolled his eyes up to look at her forlornly. He was lying on the ground, snout between his paws, and directly in front of it was a boot. _Her_ leather boot, to be precise, the one that had a nail stuck in the heel that she’d been hoping to fix.

Her leather boot, that she’d been hoping to fix, that now had large tears in the leather that were clearly made from either many small knives or a certain werebear’s teeth. 

“Matthew.”

Matthew rolled his eyes up to see her, misery written plainly on his fuzzy face.

“ _Why_ did you destroy my boot?”

Matthew raised his head and let out a mournful growl. Arabella just raised an eyebrow. Matthew sniffed at her hands, licked the boot, then licked her cheek.

She grimaced and dropped the boot to take his massive head between her hands, craning her face away from his snout.

“You don’t have to lick my face to say you’re sorry _every time_ , Reverend. I ain’t Clayton, I don’t need your kisses.”

Matthew snorted, blowing a whuff of bear breath into her face. Arabella shook her head.

“Very gross, Matthew. You gonna tell me why you destroyed my boot?”

Matthew let out the same mournful sound and then shook his massive head from side to side. Arabella arched an eyebrow again.

“No, you didn’t destroy it?”

Matthew pulled away and snuffed at the boot, then at the plyers she had dropped on arrival. He looked at her again and chuffed.

Arabella cocked her head to the side. “You were… were you tryin’ to fix it, Reverend?”

Matthew nodded his head miserably and lay back down, letting out a growly warble that ended in a huff. Arabella stroked his ears and smiled, shaking her head.

“Well, thank you for trying, I suppose. It was mighty sweet of you, if a bit foolish. But I do have to ask - did you forget you didn’t have hands, or forget how big your teeth are?”

Matthew flopped dramatically to his side, narrowly missing her with his paws, and huffed. Arabella laughed and stood up, setting the boot by his snout.

“No use trying to fix it now, you may as well keep it as something to gnaw on. Now should I be sending you, or your husband to buy me another pair?”

Matthew just covered his face with his paws. 


	22. In which winter is for cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to lovewithagirl for the prompt for this one - they requested "winter time Matthew wanting to keep Clayton inside to cuddle with him all the time."

“Do you _have_ to go?”

Clayton sighed and tugged on his gloves. “Yes, Matthew, I have to go.”

“But it’s _cold_ outside.”

The customary cowboy hat was next. “A fact I am well aware of, I can assure you.”

Matthew wrapped himself around Clayton from behind, leaning on him and ducking his head under the brim of the hat to nuzzle his hair. “You could stay here and cuddle.”

Clayton snorted but wrapped his gloved hands around Matthew’s arms, leaning his head against Matthew’s. “I stay here and cuddle all the fucking time.”

“Not often enough,” Matthew muttered. He squeezed Clayton tighter. “You’ll catch your death out there one day, I just know it.”

“Well, you’ll be here to warm me up when I do,” Clayton said drily. He felt the outline of Matthew’s answering pout against his cheek.

“If you never left it wouldn’t have to happen.”

Clayton sighed. “Matthew. I love you dearly. But I do _not_ need to be cuddled up with you under a blanket all damn winter. Being cold ain’t gonna kill me.”

“You never know!” Matthew protested. “It could happen! Frostbite is dangerous, and so is hypothermia!”

Clayton turned his head to the side and smudged a kiss to Matthew’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a few hours, darlin’. I ain’t gonna get frostbite or hypothermia in just a few hours. Alright? You can cuddle me when I get home.”

Matthew dug his chin into Clayton’s shoulder and squeezed him, then let him go. “Fine. But here –“ he grabbed the massive scarf he’d knitted and wound it around Clayton’s neck over and over until Clayton could barely see over the edge of it. Then he grabbed the stocking hat, the one Clayton had been hoping he would forget _just_ this once, and stole Clayton’s hat, ignoring the muffled “hey!” and tugging it down over his ears.

“There,” he said with a grin. “You’re all ready.”

Clayton tugged down the scarf enough to speak and scowled. “I ain’t wearing this hat, Matthew.”

Matthew frowned. “Your ears will get cold.”

“Oh my _God_ Reverend –“ Clayton swiped back his hat and tossed the stocking hat at Matthew, then stomped for the door. “I love you but _no_ , a man’s gotta have his limits.”

“You ain’t even gonna kiss me goodbye?” Matthew said, trying to look miserable.

Clayton snorted. “Are you just gonna try and bundle me back under a blanket if I do?”

“Clayton! I would never!”

“You did that just _yesterday_ Matthew, don’t give me that –“

Matthew grabbed his hand and pulled him into a kiss, cutting his rant short. Clayton melted into it, protest dying as Matthew wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him flush against his body.

“I won’t,” Matthew murmured when he finally broke the kiss. “Not today, at least.”

Clayton looked a bit dazed, so Matthew nudged close to kiss him again, deepening it with a sigh. Clayton slid a hand around his neck, keeping him in place, trading kisses in the entryway.

“You could stay though,” Matthew whispered against Clayton’s lips, pulling away to lean their foreheads together. “If you wanted.”

Clayton groaned and closed his eyes, shifting to bury his face in Matthew’s shoulder. “God _dammit_ Matthew.”

Matthew grinned and wrapped him up in his arms. “Did I just win?”

Clayton groaned again. Then he pulled away, planted one last kiss on Matthew’s lips, and opened the door. “No, you asshole, you just made me hate going out a whole lot more.” He scowled and stepped out into the snow, sending a rude gesture behind him.

“I had to try!” Matthew hollered from the doorway as he stomped through the snow, cursing it’s very existence. “And if you hate it that means you’ll come home sooner!”

“Just for that I’m gonna stay out _longer_!” Clayton yelled back. “And be all cold when I come back! I love you!”

“I love you too!”

* * *

He doesn’t stay out longer, but he’s cold when he gets home anyway, with freezing nose and fingers that he shoves into Matthew’s neck and under his shirt.

“It’s what you deserve,” he grumbles as Matthew yelps. “Fucking snuggly asshole that you are.”

“You love it too,” Matthew grins, bundling Clayton onto the bed and dragging a quilt over them. “Winter is for cuddling, after all.”

“Fine,” Clayton snorts. Matthew snuggles in close, heavy arm wrapped around Clayton and pinning him to the bed. “Fine, you win. Just this once.”

“Mhm,” Matthew mumbles, “just this once, sure.”

(He’ll win many more times that winter, just like every winter before this one, and both of them know it. But that’s okay. Clayton won’t really mind. Winter is for cuddling, after all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matthew, upon remembering that non-were humans get frostbite: knits a very bulky scarf and hat for his husband  
> Clayton: I will wear the scarf because I love you, but I'm sorry my cowboy hat is fused to my head  
> (He secretly loves it but it doesn't give him anything to hide under.)


	23. In which Arabella needs a hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to afearsomecritter for the prompt for this one, which was 'bear hug'!

Arabella was crying, and she hated it. It wasn't anything in particular, just a horrible combination of exhaustion, aches and pains from a long day of stumbling through the woods, and frustration that nothing had gone right. And now she was frustrated with herself, and her own goddamn inability to keep it together.

She'd snuck away from camp under the pretense of looking for firewood when she’d felt the prickling in her eyes that meant tears were inevitable, ignoring Clayton's raised eyebrow and side-long glance at the pile already stacked in the middle of their makeshift camp. She'd not gone far, just far enough that she could sit against a tree and cry and not have any of them see or hear her.

The worst part of it was that whenever she was like this, miserable and sad and tired, she missed her sister. Cynthia used to be the one to wipe her tears and bundle her into squishy hugs, all soft curves and warm arms wrapped tight around Arabella's own bony self. And she missed it, the comfort, the safety of crying with someone who knew her so well, and didn’t mind the tears or the snot. She knew that Miriam would gladly comfort her (and had in the past), and knew that the boys would try their best. But asking was hard, and sometimes she just needed a moment to be miserable. So miserable she was, sitting on the cold ground with tree knots digging into her spine.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later the sound of lumbering footsteps and branches breaking met her ears, followed a moment later by the fuzzy visage of Matthew in bear form peering around the tree.

_Fuck_. Arabella wiped hastily at her face, then scrubbed the tears off on her dress and gave Matthew a watery smile.

"Hey Matty, everything okay?"

Matthew cocked his head and chuffed, then have a questioning whine. Arabella tried to laugh, but it came out all wrong.

"I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

He snorted and walked closer, sitting down as close as he could without squishing her. The usual concepts of personal space went out the window when Matthew was in bear form, and today was no exception. He crowded in against her, snuffing at her hair and licking her cheek. She laughed and pushed him away, only for him to snuggle back in close, a giant ball of warm fur beside her. Finally he rested his head gently against hers and waited.

It only took a few seconds for the tears to start again. Arabella leaned against Matthew and buried her face in his fur, hiding away from everything.

"I miss her, y'know?" she whispered. Matthew let out a mournful croon in agreement. "She used to give the best hugs."

Matthew snuffed her ear, then shifted his weight, nudging her upright and then turning so he could pull her into a massive bear hug, his front legs wrapped clumsily over her shoulders. He was heavy, and warm, and so so soft. It wasn’t her sister, and wasn’t a replacement for the bond they’d had. But it was still _good_ , still full of so much care. She squeezed her eyes shut as a fresh wash of tears ran down her face. Then she let herself be hugged, snuggling in close to letting the tears run their course.

"Thank you," she said into Matthew's fur, hugging him back. He snuffed happily and rested his heavy head on top of hers. "You give good hugs too."


	24. In which they get engaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a while back mooimagoldfish requested their engagement scene, pointed out that although in the very first chapter of this ficlet collection Matthew hints at asking Clayton to marry him soon it never actually happened. So here it is! Thanks for the lovely prompt goldfish! 
> 
> And many thanks to afearsomecritter for suggesting the way that the engagement happens!
> 
> Chronologically, this one takes place a while back, as I've mentioned that they are husbands many times before this XD

“He’s such a prick, I don’t know why Miss Beatrice had to hire the both of us but I swear to everything holy I’m gonna shoot him one of these days.”

“Sounds like he’d deserve it,” Matthew said, stirring the pot of soup. Clayton watched as he tasted it, frowned, and added a dash of salt.

Clayton snorted and crossed his arms. “He’d deserve far fucking worse than a bullet in his ass. He’s a goddamn idiot, and he’s gonna get both of us killed if I don’t kill him first myself.” He shook his head. “He fucking forgot the _bullets_ for his rifle, Matthew! On a job as hired security! Can you imagine?”

“No, I surely can’t,” Matthew said with a smile. He looked to the side, trying to find the pepper.

“And he’s rude as shit to Miss Adelaide – here, love,” Clayton turned around and pulled pepper from the cupboard. He touched Matthew’s shoulder and pressed it into his hand, barely pausing in his rant. “- but of _course_ never when Miss Beatrice is around –“

Rough fingers wrapped around his, catching his hand before he could pull away, and Clayton’s rant broke off. Matthew smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the edges, so terribly fond it made him flush.

“Will you marry me?”

Clayton froze. “What?” he croaked, heart hammering in his chest. Matthew froze too, flushing up to his ears.

“I – will you marry me?” he blurted out again. He looked like he did that Sunday that he forgot to write his sermon, the last-minute panic of the unprepared, and Clayton had never loved him more. “I love you, so much, I, I - _fuck_ , I was gonna do this proper, I have a ring and everything –“ he started casting about for a ring, checking his pockets, the counter.

Clayton laughed and stepped into his space, still holding his hand, tangling their fingers together. He leaned up and pulled Matthew down and into a kiss, his mouth still open with laugher.

“Holy shit, _yes_ Matty, of course I’ll fucking marry you.”

“Yeah?” Matthew’s panic softened into joy. He cupped his hand around Clayton’s jaw, his own lips curling into a smile as he kissed Clayton back.

“Yeah,” Clayton whispered back. Matthew laughed and wrapped his arms around Clayton’s waist, lifting him up and twirling him around.

“I can’t believe you said yes, holy _shit_ , Clay,” he gasped. “We’re gonna get _married_!”

When he set him back down they were both breathless and beaming, and only a little lop-sided from the twirl. Clayton reached up again and pulled Matthew down into a kiss, soft lips lingering together for a long moment, his fingers buried in Matthew’s hair. 

“We’re gonna get married,” he whispered when he pulled away, resting their foreheads together and looking into Matthew’s deep brown eyes. “And I can’t fuckin’ wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they were HUSBANDS. 
> 
> (Wedding scene may or may not follow at some point XD)


	25. In which Matthew gets concussed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to savage_starlight for the prompt for this one! They requested ‘Matthew tries to stand but then collapses.’

“Matthew! _Fuck_ , are you alright?”

Matthew blinked open his eyes to see Clayton crouched in front of him, looking worried and scared and relieved all at the same time.

“Wha’s wrong?” He said, frowning when it came out in a slur. Fuck, his head was _pounding_ , all centered around a spot on the back of his skull. His blinked and his vision blurred as his head throbbed again. He blinked again, vision slowly regaining clarity. When he managed to focus his gaze back on Clayton’s face, his partner was frowning and scanning him over.

“You got hit Matty, don’t you remember?”

“No,” he croaked out. “Who’re we fightin’?”

“Ain’t important,” Clayton said, reaching for his head. “Here, lemme check –“

Soft fingers probed the back of his head, parting the hair and searching for what, Matthew didn’t know. He grit his teeth against the wave of new pain that even the light touch brought. When Clayton pulled his hands back they were clean, and his face flickered with relief.

“You’re not bleeding, that’s good. Think you can get up?”

Matthew forced a grin. “Yeah, ‘m fine.” He rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, ignoring the way his head pounded at the movement. Fuck, he felt awful, whole body heavy and slow. _What the fuck did they hit me with, a train?_

“Hey, go slow –“

Matthew ignored Clayton and shoved himself to his feet. He laughed triumphantly and turned to Clayton. “See?”

Before Clayton could respond everything caught up with him. His head throbbed and spun, vision going black as a rushing sound filled his ears. And then his legs crumbled beneath him.

Strong arms wrapped around him, hauling him against Clayton and slowing his fall. Clayton slid to the ground with him, hands clutching desperately at his shirt as he eased him to the ground. Then he was horizontal again, cheek pressed against the dirt, whole body slumped and impossibly heavy. The hands clutching his shirt left, then cradled his head, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks. The rushing in his ears faded, replaced with Clayton’s panicked voice.

“-thew, Matty, fuck, are you alright, please be okay, _fuck_ , why did I let you do that, will you fucking _say_ somethin’ -“

“’M fine,” he slurred, limbs too leaden to move. “Clay, ‘s fine, stop.”

Clayton fell silent, and Matthew frowned. _Oh, that wasn’t what I wanted._ He forced his eyes back open, just enough to peer up at Clayton, who was watching him with his mouth pinched shut and a frantic look in his eyes.

“Y’ can talk,” he mumbled, lolling his head towards Clayton. “’S fine.”

“Fuck,” Clayton breathed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Matthew grinned, or tried to, anyway. “Now y’know how I feel when I see y’drop.”

Clayton’s thumb swept across his cheek again, hands still cupping his head gently. “Let’s not try that again, alright? How about we get you comfortable ‘till the others come find us?”

Matthew frowned and shook his head. Or he meant to, anyway, but his head wouldn’t move. “I c’n walk.”

“Don’t think you can, sweetheart. Not without help, anyway, and you’re a bit too big for me to carry all by my lonesome.”

Matthew closed his eyes, mulling it over. “I c’n shift?” he asked hopefully. _Maybe that’d help._

Clayton pressed a kiss to his forehead, then picked up his head, shoving something soft underneath it. “It’d be even harder to move a werebear, darlin’. Just rest, alright? The others’ll be here soon.”

Matthew hummed, leaning his head into Clayton’s warm hand. “Alrigh’, Clay. ‘F you insist.”

“Just this once, darlin’. You can tough it out next time.”


	26. In which Matthew snores, and the gang is tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to afearsomecritter for the prompt for this one! They gave me the prompt "how is your snoring worse as a human??" which was hilariously fun to play with. 
> 
> If any of y'all have prompts you'd like to see filled, you can send me an ask over on my [tumblr](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) and I will do my best to fill it!!

"Reverend, I swear to god -"

"Will someone smack him?"

"Clayton, he's your husband can't you roll him over for fuck's sake -"

A boot sailed over Matthew, neatly missing his snoring face and smacking Clayton in the head instead. Clayton sat up and glared across the tiny campfire at Arabella, who glowered back.

"Fuck off!" he hissed, then threw the boot back.

"Oh my god Clayton if you don't get your husband to stop snoring I swear to the Dealer -"

Clayton gave Arabella the finger, them waved it at Miriam and Aly, who were both glaring at him from their bedrolls. "Y'all have any fucking idea how hard he is to wake up?"

"Try anyway!" Miriam grumbled, rolling over and burying her head in her pillow. "He's loud enough to wake the dead!"

"Dont tempt fate," Aly muttered, crawling forward to knock on a stray piece of firewood. "The last thing we need is an undead army _and_ snoring."

Clayton shoved half-heartedly at Matthew, whose snores sputtered and then continued on even louder. "At least y'all don't have to hear him snore every night," he muttered. He shoved Matthew again. "Come on, Matty, wake the fuck up."

Matthew snorted and rolled into Clayton's space, burying his face in Clayton's chest and pinning him to the ground. The snores ceased for a minute, and everyone sighed in relief. Then they started up, just as loud, and everyone groaned.

"The thing I want to know," Arabella said miserably, "is how he snores louder as a human than as a fucking bear."

"Well I wanna know how Clayton hasn't killed him yet," Miriam said, snuggling up to Arabella. "No offense, darlin', but I'm glad you don't snore nearly that bad."

"Excuse me!" Arabella sounded affronted. "I don't snore at all."

The others all laughed.

"Sorry 'Bells, but you do," Aly said. "Clayton does too."

"Don't worry, it's a very cute snore," Miriam soothed.

Just then Matthew's snores paused. He grumbled and pushed his face further into Clayton's chest. "Will y'all be quiet?" he muttered. "I'm tryin' a sleep."

Three boots hit him in the back at the very same time, accompanied by swears from four different mouths.

"Hush," Clayton muttered, "before we're kicked out of camp."


	27. In which Matthew finds a kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the wonderful chapter of mooimagoldfish's fic "Choose a god you think is fair" called "kittens" (which y'all can read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005668/chapters/57814033#workskin)). Thanks for letting me play with the idea!! Matthew's kitten was named by wollfgang, thanks for letting me use it!! 
> 
> Originally this was just a fluffy ficlet, but it felt too perfect not to use it in the werebear 'verse. These lads deserve a kitten, y'all.

“Clayton’s going to love you so much, yes, I know he will.”

Clayton kicked off his boots and snuck on socked feet towards the sitting room, curiosity and just a smidge of worry building at what exactly had Matthew baby-talking on a Tuesday afternoon. He peered in, face splitting into a wide grin at the sight of Matthew sprawled on his back on their sofa, a tiny kitten teetering around on his chest on wobbly legs. It mewed at Matthew, who clucked back it, then stroked it’s head with one broad finger. It was adorable, all black and white fluff and big blue eyes. But even more so  _ Matthew _ was adorable, all gooey-eyed and sweet over a kitten small enough to fit in one palm. Clayton stood and watched, filing the sight away for safe-keeping before sneaking up behind them.

“I see we have a new arrival in the house,” he said once he was close enough to lean over the back of the sofa, grinning down at his husband. 

Matthew jumped, nearly dislodging the kitten from his chest. He caught it before it could topple to the ground, cupping it with both hands protectively. Clayton reached down to steady him, then grinned at the betrayed look Matthew gave him. 

“Whoops, sorry love. Thought you’d heard me come in.”

“You damn well know I didn’t,” Matthew grumped, hands still curled around the kitten. “Someday I’ll put a bell on the door, and then where will you be?”

Clayton grinned wider and leaned down to plant a kiss on Matthew’s cheek. “Finding a new way to sneak into the house, probably.”

“You’re a damn menace is what you are. You gonna kiss me properly at least?”

Matthew pouted, and Clayton laughed, then leaned down to kiss him again, planting one on his forehead, then his nose, and finally his mouth. Matthew curled one hand around the back of his neck, keeping him in place, turning the kiss into something soft and slow. 

The kitten interrupted them by mewling and trying to crawl its way off Matthew’s chest. Matthew broke away with a curse, catching it just in time. Clayton grinned as he bought it close to his face, an exaggerated frown on his face. 

“You ain’t supposed to get my attention by trying to fall to your death, Jeremiah.” He shook his head and Jeremiah mewed in response.

“Jeremiah? So we’re keeping him then?” 

Matthew looked up at him guiltily. “If that’s okay? I found him in the church, and couldn’t find his mama. And he’s so  _ little _ , he’d die out there by himself.”

Clayton smiled and reached down to stroke the kitten’s soft head. “Always wanted a kitten.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Matthew beamed, then pulled him in for another kiss. 

“Here.” Matthew sat up and held out Jeremiah. Clayton took him carefully, cradling the tiny ball of fluff to his chest, then came around to sit beside Matthew. The kitten blinked up at him, butted against his chest, then curled up and closed his eyes. Clayton stroked his head with one finger, reveling in the softness of his fur. 

When he looked up Matthew was smiling, eyes soft and happy in that way that made something warm curl in his chest. Matthew tucked a strand of his hair behind Clayton’s ear, fingers brushing his neck. 

“Love you, you know?” 

Clayton turned his head and pressed a kiss to Matthew’s knuckles. “I know. Love you too, Matty.”

Matthew scooted closer until Clayton could lean against him and rest his head on Matthew’s shoulder, until Matthew could rest his own on Clayton’s hair. 

“Why Jeremiah?” 

Matthew shrugged. “He’s my favourite of the prophets. And it’s a cute name, you know?”

Clayton snorted. “Jeremiah ain’t a cute name, Matty.”

“It is when his full name is Jeremiah Mittens.” Matthew sounded so petulant that Clayton burst into laughter, startling Jeremiah from his nap. The kitten glared at him, so he shushed him and pressed a kiss to his tiny fuzzy head, then pet him until he went back to sleep. When he glanced up Matthew was pouting again. 

Clayton leaned heavier against him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry for laughing. It’s a good name, very cute.”

“I know it’s cute, ‘s why I picked it.” 

“I’m sorry for doubting you, I’ll let you pick all the names from now on.” 

Matthew grinned against his hair. “Does that mean we can get a dog, too?”

Clayton laughed. “Let’s see how the cat works out first, okay?”

“Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be prepared for more Jeremiah Mittens in future chapters.


	28. In which Matthew is scared of spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was prompted by mooimagoldfish, who requested "Matty sometimes you are a 1200 pound grizzly, how the hell are you afraid of __ ", which was just so much fun to play with. Thanks for the prompt goldfish! I am also going to low-key pretend this is in honour of hallowe'en JIC I don't actually get around to writing a hallowe'en werebear ficlet. (But if you have any ideas for a hallowe'en werebear ficlet you'd like to see, please feel free to send me an ask on [the tumblr](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/) and I'll see what I can do!)

A shriek in the kitchen, followed by a loud clatter, had Clayton grinning. He put down his book and looked at the doorway to the kitchen just in time to see Matthew run through it, wooden spoon in hand, looking terrified.

“Spider?” Clayton asked.

Matthew grimaced and covered his face with his hands, a massive shudder running through his broad frame.

“Will you please kill it?” he asked from under his hands.

Clayton laughed and stood, crossing over to where Matthew was huddled against the wall. He leaned up and kissed the back of Matthew’s hand, grinning when Matthew peered out at him with wide eyes.

“I’ll put it outside,” he promised. “Thank you for not turning into a bear and tryin’ to squish it.”

Matthew shuddered. “Then I would have to _touch_ it.”

Clayton patted his shoulder, then went into the kitchen, scanning about for the spider. After a minute he poked his head back into the sitting room.

“I think it’s gone, sweetie. I can’t find it, anyway.”

Matthew shuddered again, and held out the wooden spoon. Clayton took it and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Would you put this back and turn off the stove for me? I’ll make soup later. We can go to the Gem for dinner.”

“Matty, it’s gone, I swear.”

Matthew shook his head and sat on the sofa, pulling his legs up under him. “Nope, it’s still in there, I can’t go back in. Not until it’s gone.”

Clayton walked over and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Alright, love. But I’m also happy to help you cook, then I can kill it if you see it again.”

Matthew looked up hopefully. “Would you?”

“Of course,” Clayton said with a smile. Matthew reached up and pulled him into a proper kiss, lips soft against Clayton’s.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Clayton smiled and gave him another kiss before pulling back. “Anytime, love.” He took Matthew’s hand and pulled him to his feet, leading him towards the kitchen. “I am, however, going to tease you about bein’ a 1200 pound werebear who’s afraid of spiders.”

Matthew shuddered again, then squeezed Clayton’s hand. “They’re just so _awful_. Who needs that many legs??”


	29. In which it is November first, and Matthew is ready for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It snowed where I live today, which means that you get soft wintery husbands.

"Clayton."

Clayton groaned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "G'way."

A hand shook his shoulder. Clayton shoved it away half-heartedly, but Matthew just grabbed his hand and pulled on it instead.

"Clay. Clayton. It's November first."

“So?”

The covers over his head pulled away, and Clayton blinked up at Matthew’s grinning face.

“You said I couldn’t decorate for Christmas until Hallowe’en was over.”

Clayton groaned and yanked the covers back over his head, smushing his face against the pillow. “Matthew, _no_ , you can’t fuckin' decorate yet. It’s fucking _November_.”

Matthew went quiet, and Clayton sighed. When he lifted the covers enough to see, Matthew was pouting, bottom lip stuck out comically far and eyes wide and sad.

“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes. Can’t you wait till December?”

“But Clayton it’s _Christmas_.”

“Christmas is a day, Matthew,” Clayton grumbled. “We could just fuckin' decorate on Christmas mornin' and throw it all out the next day. That’d be enough.”

Matthew leaned in kissed the tip of his nose, wiping Clayton’s scowl from his face.

“It’s the Christmas _season_. Which means I get decorations for two months.” He tugged on Clayton’s arm again. “C’mon, Scrooge, come sit on the sofa and grump at me while I decorate.” He smiled hopefully. “I made hot cider?”

Clayton squinted at him. “With the cinnamon sticks?”

Matthew nodded. “Just for you.”

Clayton grumbled wordlessly and sat up in bed, dragging their quilt up around his shoulders and over his head. “Fine, but I’m bringin' a blanket.”

Matthew beamed. Before Clayton could scramble away he was sliding his arms under Clayton’s knees and shoulders and picking him up, quilt and all. Clayton squawked and flailed for purchase, wrapping his arms around Matthew’s neck instinctively.

“I can _walk_ -"

Matthew ignored him and whistled something that sounded suspiciously like a Christmas hymn, carrying Clayton and the quilt out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. He deposited Clayton neatly on the sofa, then pressed a kiss to Clayton’s scowl. “But this is more fun.”

Clayton laced a hand through Matthew’s hair before he could pull away, bringing him back into another kiss, soft and sleep-warm. Matthew leaned into it, mouth pliant and open under Clayton’s, tasting of apples and spice.

“You already been into the cider,” Clayton murmured when he pulled away. Matthew hummed, then kissed him again, hands settling on Clayton’s knees. Clayton let his eyes fall closed, let Matthew lead him, let him settle into the warmth and the softness of the moment.

When Matthew pulled away it took him a moment to gain his bearings, to bring himself back to the moment. He breathed, taking in the scent of apple cider and fresh pine boughs. When he opened his eyes Matthew was watching him, one of those soft smiles on his face. His hands were heavy and warm through the quilt, and Clayton's cheeks flushed under the weight of his gaze.

“Thought I was promised some hot apple cider by my darlin’ husband.”

Matthew laughed and squeezed his knees. “You were. I made breakfast, too.”

Two minutes later Matthew pressed a mug of hot cider into his hands, followed by a warm piece of coffee cake on a plate. Clayton raised an eyebrow.

“You been busy this mornin', huh.” He took a sip of the cider, humming at the taste and bringing the steaming mug in to his chest. “Holy shit, this is amazing.”

Matthew grinned. “Yeah?”

Clayton nodded and picked a corner of the coffee cake off with his fingers, popping it into his mouth. “I take it back, you can start Christmas early if it means you make cider and cake for breakfast.”

Matthew grinned smugly. “I knew you’d come around.” He stole another apple-cider kiss, then turned to the small pile of boxes in the middle of the room. Clayton nudged his back with one socked foot, smiling when Matthew turned around expectantly.

“Thank you. For the cider, and the coffee cake.”

Matthew put one hand on his foot, squeezing softly before he returned to the boxes. “You’re welcome, love.” Clayton could hear the grin in his next words. “Knew I’d have to bribe you into Christmas somehow.”

Clayton snorted, curling back up on the sofa. “You know me too well.”

Matthew looked over his shoulder, flashing him another brilliant smile. “Nah. I know you just the right amount."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matthew starts Christmas too early and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise.


	30. In which it is early, and Jeremiah Mittens would like his breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by the ever wonderful mooimagoldfish, who'd requested Jeremiah Mittens Part 2. There will probably be many more Jeremiah Mittens chapters in the future!

"This is your fault," Clayton muttered as tiny paws padded across his face, small but insistent mews singing in his ear. "'We need a kitten, Clayton.' 'It'll be cute, Clayton.' 'I'll take care of it, Clayton.'" He elbowed Matthew lightly. “Get up and feed yer kitten, you layabout.”

Matthew just kept snoring. Clayton sighed as Jeremiah Mittens batted at his nose, crying even louder. Clayton opened his eyes and scowled.

"You could sleep in, you know," he muttered. "Sun ain't even up yet and yer cryin' for yer breakfast."

Jeremiah stepped wrong and tumbled down the pillow to sprawl beside Clayton's chest. Clayton smiled despite himself, and dragged a hand up to stroke the tiny ball of fluff. Jeremiah purred and arched into his hand, then mewed again. Clayton sighed. Somehow, in the few weeks that they'd had him, Jeremiah had learned that while Matthew could sleep through his loudest yowls, Clayton could not. And thus, Clayton became the human that fed him, more often than not. 

"Alright, lets go feed ya."

He shoved at the heavy arm slung around his waist, but Matthew just grumbled and buried his nose in Clayton's hair, pulling them closer together. The snores resumed.

"Matty," Clayton muttered, shoving at the arm again. "C'mon, I gotta go feed yer kitten."

Jeremiah mewed and started his way up the pillow again, butting against Clayton's chin with a purr.

“Matty.” Clayton elbowed Matthew, pushing until Matthew finally let up enough that he could tumble out of bed, Jeremiah cupped safely in his hands. Matthew let out a mournful croon and curled into the empty space he left, shoving his face in Clayton’s pillow. A soppy smile broke out on Clayton’s face. He looked at Jeremiah, who blinked up at him from his arms.

“He is pretty cute when he's sleepin', ain’t he?” Clayton whispered. Jeremiah mewed back, and Clayton ran one finger over his fuzzy head. “You are too, but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He shivered as the cold morning air settled in around him. He stood, cuddling Jeremiah to his chest and pulling a blanket off Matthew as he headed for the kitchen. It’s not like Matthew would need it anyway, furnace that he was.

“Although,” Clayton muttered, “you would be much cuter if you didn’t wake me up at the ass-crack of dawn every mornin'.”

Jeremiah just purred.


	31. In which Clayton is drunk, and it is cold outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was prompted by sondering_on, who'd requested "Matthew keeping Clayton warm in winter". It somehow turned into soft drunken Clayton sap. Thanks for the wonderful prompt!
> 
> Trigger warning for drunkenness.

“Take me home?” Clayton mumbled, curling nearly onto Matthew’s lap and shoving his face in his husband’s neck. He smeared a kiss under Matthew’s jaw, then yawned against his skin. “’M tired.”

“That’s because you’re drunk, love.” Matthew sounded unbearably fond, and it made Clayton’s heart do flips and turns even though they’d been together for long enough that it shouldn’t *do* that anymore. But his heart had never listened to him, where Matthew was concerned.

One of Matthew’s hands settled in the middle of Clayton’s back, smoothing slow, deep circles into his muscles. Clayton went boneless, slumping against him even further, trusting that Matthew would hold him up. And he did, the arm around Clayton’s waist tightening as the arm Clayton had slung around Matthew’s shoulders went heavy and slack. 

“You can’t fall asleep yet, we need to go home. And you need your coat on before we go.”

“I don’ need it,” Clayton slurred, burrowing further into Matthew’s warmth. “You’ll keep me warm.”

“If only that were so. You’re still just human, darlin’, and I know how cold you get in winter.” Matthew prodded at Clayton ineffectually. “C’mon, if you put your coat on then I promise I’ll let you snuggle once we get home.”

“I don’ snuggle,” Clayton protested. He didn’t move, still curled up nearly on Matthew’s lap, face buried in his neck. “I jus’ like how warm y’are.”

Matthew laughed. “Alright, Clayton “I don’t snuggle” Sharpe, let’s go home so we can not-cuddle in our own bed, instead of on Miriam’s couch.”

“But there’s snow outside. ‘S warm in here. Miriam won’ mind.”

“She most certainly will,” Miriam called from the kitchen. “I love you both dearly, but you can go canoodle on your own couch.”

“You said you wanted to go home,” Matthew reminded him as Clayton scowled against his skin. “Remember?”

“Changed m’ mind.”

Matthew laughed again. “Too bad. It’s not far. C’mon.” Matthew’s hands pushed Clayton upright, out of the warmth of his neck. Clayton grumbled but went willingly, slumping off Matthew’s lap and staggering to his feet.

“Fiiiiiiine.”

Matthew led him to the door, then guided him through the motions of putting on his coat. After the coat came the ridiculous hat, and then the ridiculous scarf, and then the mittens that he knew weren’t his. He lifted up his hands, blinking at the too big mittens made with bright red yarn.

“What –“

Matthew’s hands folded over his. “Keep them on. It’s cold out.”

“I don’t like mittens.”

“I know.” Matthew brought Clayton’s hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the bright red mittens. He smiled against them, eyes crinkling at the edges, once more overwhelmingly fond. “Keep them on anyway, alright?”

Clayton huffed and rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing hot under the bulky scarf. “You could just hold my hand.”

Matthew grinned, then tugged him towards the door, wrapping their hands together, his bare hand warm and big around Clayton’s. “You think I ain’t gonna do that too?”

Matthew pulled open the door, letting in a gust of cold air and more than a few snowflakes. Clayton shivered and huddled inside his coat, trying to remain in the warmth bundled around him.

“Goodbye, ladies! I’m takin’ my drunk husband home,” Matthew called behind them. “Thank you for dinner!”

“You’re welcome,” Miriam’s voice hollered back. “Close the door behind you, will you? We’ll see you at Church tomorrow! And don’t dawdle, it’s cold out there!”

“Yes ma’am,” Matthew chirped. Then he pulled Clayton out, into the snowy evening.

* * *

“Why d’ we live here,” Clayton mumbled, staring at his boots as he stomped through the foot-deep snow. His cheeks were cold, and his feet even colder, the heavy woolen socks he wore no match for the snow seeping into the ankle of his boots. “Fuckin’ snow, makin’ everythin’ cold.”

“I like it. It makes everything look so pretty and clean.”

Clayton grumbled wordlessly and kept kicking at the snow as he walked. “’M *cold* though.”

Matthew squeezed his hand, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the woolen mitten. “We’ll be home soon. Look, though –“ he tugged them to a stop, pointing up at the road ahead. “Ain’t that pretty?”

Clayton followed his arm, blinking as snowflakes collected on his eyelashes. It *was* pretty, he’d give Matthew that. The town was quiet and dark, streets lit by a few stray lanterns that cast a soft yellow glow on the snow around them. Snowflakes drifted slowly downwards, dotting the sky and making everything seem calmer, cleaner, softer.

It was lovely.

He looked at Matthew, who was watching him again, eyes soft and pleased. Even with the pleasant haze of alcohol, it was easy to read the love there. Clayton flushed, eyes sweeping closed as Matthew leaned in and kissed him, his warm lips a pleasant contrast to the chilly evening air.

“I love you,” Matthew said softly as he pulled away, brushing a snowflake from Clayton’s cheek.

Clayton leaned in for another kiss, Matthew’s hands and lips keeping him warmer than he had any right to be.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please expect more soft snow-related fluff as we draw closer to the end of the year XD


	32. In which Matthew learns how to make fruitcake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to just a song silenced for the prompt for this one!! They had requested "fruitcake related mishaps." 
> 
> This one was a lot of fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy!

“Miriam?”

Miriam raised an eyebrow at Matthew and his big watery puppy-dog eyes. “Yes, Matthew?”

“Are you making fruitcake for Christmas?”

She snorted. “Absolutely not. It’s not worth the sugar.”

“Or the brandy,” Aly muttered.

Matthew looked at them both, aghast. “What? Fruitcake is the _best_. We have to have it at Christmas!”

Miriam grimaced. “Fruitcake is horrible. But if you want it so bad, then you’re welcome to make it yourself, honey.”

Matthew turned his puppy dog eyes on Clayton. “My Clayton, my most darling husband, would you make me fruitcake?”

Clayton leaned over and pecked him on the lips. “No,” he said sweetly. Matthew’s pout grew. "It’s your turn to try your hand at baking. But I’ll let you use the cookbook, and I promise to try whatever you make.”

“You are a cruel husband, but I accept your offer.” Matthew pushed himself to his feet while Clayton laughed at him, then headed for the door. “Well, I’m off. The kitchen is calling my name.”

“If you’re making fruitcake for yourself, does this mean you won’t be eatin’ any of my Christmas pies?” Miriam called.

Matthew gave her another horrified look. “No! You make your pies, and I’ll make my fruitcake.”

“Maybe he’ll fill up on fruitcake, and eat less pie,” Arabella muttered to Miriam. “It’ll mean more for the rest of us.”

“I heard that!” Matthew called. He slung his coat on, then his knitted cap. “Clayton, are you coming now, or later?”

Clayton sighed and got to his feet. “I should probably make sure you don’t burn the house down, huh.” He grinned at Matthew’s exaggerated pout, and leaned up to give him another kiss. “Don’t worry darlin’, I love your bad cooking.”

“Somebody has to,” Aly called.

Matthew gave him the finger, or so they presumed; the mitten on his hand made it hard to see. “Just wait – I’m gonna make the best damn fruitcake there ever was!”

* * *

Matthew did not, contrary to his own proclamation, make the best damn fruitcake there ever was. Or at least not on the first or second attempts; the third attempt was up for debate. It was wonderful, or a travesty, depending on who you asked. 

His first attempt was a thorough disaster; charred to a crisp on the outside and runny in the middle, the product of too high heat and falling asleep while it was baking. Clayton had been the one who had pulled it out of the oven, cussing at the smoke spilling out into their kitchen. Matthew had run in just in time to see him toss it into the snow outside.

“You can bring it back in when it ain’t gonna smoke us out,” Clayton had said when Matthew made a noise of protest. “And I love you, but I ain’t tryin’ that one.”

The second one had gone marginally better. It was only a little burnt, and dry like all bad fruitcakes were. Clayton had reluctantly tried it, grimacing as he ate the first bite.

“Honey,” he’s said carefully. “Is there any chance you mixed up the sugar with the salt?”

Matthew paled, then stole a bite off Clayton’s plate. He didn’t even manage to swallow it, spitting it out into his hand and looking miserable. Clayton patted his shoulder.

“It’s alright. Third time’s the charm, ain’t that what the say?”

Whether or not that was true was still up for debate. The cake had turned out remarkably well; baked a golden brown, no burnt edges in sight; moist and as light as a fruitcake could be; packed with fruits and nuts and all things good. The only problem was the brandy.

“Exactly _how_ much brandy did you put in this?” Clayton asked suspiciously, staring at the fruitcake on his plate. He looked over at Arabella, who was sprawled on the other sofa, blinking at him slowly. He’d left her to supervise Matthew while he baked, and had come home to find her slurring her words.

“Not that much,” Matthew said carefully. “Just what the recipe called for. And a bit extra to soak it in. She’s a lightweight, you know that.”

Clayton raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” He took a bite, a surprised look crossing his face. “This is pretty damn good, Matty.”

Matthew beamed. “Told you I was gonna make the best damn fruitcake.”

Ten minutes later Clayton took his words back. He glared at Matthew’s pout. “I am _drunk_ , Matthew. I had shit to do today.”

“You sure you didn’t stop for a whiskey before you came home?”

Clayton groaned, and flopped over, pillowing his head on Matthew’s thigh. Arabella giggled from across the way. “Don’t you laugh, you’re drunk too.”

“If you serve this at Chrissmuss, Miriam’ll kill ya,” Arabella slurred. Clayton nodded, and Matthew sighed.

“I have to bring _something_.”

Clayton patted his thigh. “You’ll get it, Matty. I b’lieve in you.”

Matthew stroked a hand through his hair. “Thank you, darlin’. I’ll give it one last try.”

* * *

Christmas day came, and with it all the brightness and joy that they’d cultivated over the years together. Spirits were high, and laughter and singing filled Miriam and Arabella’s tiny house after they filed home from the morning service. Miriam and Clayton had cooked a feast, and served it with pride. And when it came time for desserts, Matthew proudly set his fruitcake out among the pies and puddings.

“I promise that it’s got a reasonable amount of brandy in it,” he said when Arabella looked at it doubtfully. “Clayton can verify.”

“I tried it a few days ago, it’s good,” Clayton said with a nod. He leaned over and gave Matthew a kiss on the cheek. “You did well, darlin’.”

Matthew flushed, looking pleased as punch. He turned hopeful eyes to Miriam. “I know fruitcake ain’t your favourite, but will you try it?”

Miriam nodded with a pained look on her face. “I suppose I owe it to you.” She took a tiny slice, then poked at it with her fork. Finally she took a bite, then looked at Matthew in surprise. “This ain’t half-bad.” She took another bite, then nodded. “Matthew, I am impressed.”

Matthew beamed.

* * *

After dinner, when they were washing up in the kitchen together, Aly leaned in close to Clayton. “Fess up. Did you bake it for him?”

Clayton snorted softly. “Nope. Although he may have bribed Celine to come over and help him. She’s got a secret recipe and everything.” He elbowed Aly before he could laugh. “And if you breathe a word of it to Miriam, I’ll make you eat the one he burnt to a crisp.”

Aly laughed softly. “I’ll pass, thanks. Besides. He wasn’t lyin’, it’s the best damn fruitcake I’ve had by far.”

Floorboards creaked behind them, and Clayton turned around to see Matthew there, leaning in the doorway.

“You hear that, Matty?” he grinned. “Aly says you made the best fruitcake he’s ever had.”

“It’s true, Rev. I’d even eat it again, if’n you made it next year.”

Clayton couldn’t remember when he’d seen Matthew look so pleased. His cheeks flushed, and he came over to them, looping his arms around Clayton’s waist.

“Yeah? It was alright?”

Clayton turned around in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss. “Yeah, darlin’. It was wonderful.”

And the look on Matthew’s face at his words? Well, it was worth all the wasted sugar and brandy in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a holiday mood, so I expect there will be at least one other holiday-themed chapter up soon!


	33. In which it is Christmas morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday if you celebrate, and a lovely few days if you don't. Much love to all of you!

Clayton was woken by a paw batting at his nose. It was his usual wake-up call these days, as Jeremiah continued to demand an early breakfast, and continued to recognize Clayton as the most reliable source of food. Normally, he’d grumble and complain, but still dutifully slump out of bed to feed the cat then start on breakfast for himself and Matthew. Today, though, he’d been counting on Jeremiah to wake him up early. It was Christmas morning, and he had things to do. 

“Mornin, Jeremiah,” he whispered, peering up at their cat through the dark of the early winter morning. “Merry Christmas.”

Jeremiah just meowed louder, looking decidedly unimpressed at the holiday salutations of the morning. He batted Clayton’s nose again, only jumping off the bed when Clayton shifted, threatening to disrupt his position perched on Clayton’s chest. Paws pattered across the room accompanied by another meow, one that clearly meant “follow me, and you’d better be quick about it.” Clayton huffed a laugh, then slide out of the warm bed, disentangling himself from Matthew’s hold on his waist. Matthew, as he’d expected, barely moved; he snuffled, rolled into the warm spot left behind by Clayton, and settled when Clayton tucked the blankets back in around him, the soft rumble of his snoring barely pausing.

Clayton tiptoed across the freezing cold floor, cussing under his breath. Somehow he’d lost his socks in the night, which really shouldn’t have been a surprise. He always did, when he was in bed with Matthew; the other man was just so damn _warm_ , keeping Clayton toasty throughout the night. He made it to the dresser, rummaging around in the dark for a pair of woolen socks, then another, pulling both on. Finally he grabbed a sweater and yanked it on over top of his long underwear. If it was big and bulky and clearly made for someone much larger than him, well, no one was around to see him anyway.

Jeremiah appeared at the bedroom door again, meowing louder.

“I know, I know,” Clayton whispered. “Be patient.”

He slipped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him, quieting the rumble of Matthew’s snores. Jeremiah wound around his ankles, nearly tripping Clayton as he walked for the kitchen, crying the whole time. Finally Clayton crouched down and scooped him up, pressing a kiss to his head while Jeremiah pouted.

“You can’t make me break my damn neck on Christmas morning, Mister Mittens,” he said quietly. “I don’t think Matty would be happy.”

Jeremiah meowed in his face, then wiggled to be let down. Clayton let him go as they entered the kitchen, crossing over to the larder.

“It’s stew for breakfast,” he said as he pulled out the pot of leftovers. “You’ll get some nice roast beef for dinner though, don’t you worry. Maybe some plum puddin’ too.”

Jeremiah jumped onto the counter, meowing and rubbing against his hands, then trying to get into the pot. Clayton tsked and put him back on the floor, then spooned some of the stew into a dish, topping it with half a leftover biscuit. As soon as it was on the floor Jeremiah was on it, eating with happy little sounds.

Clayton crouched beside him, petting his fur softly while he ate.

“Think Matty’ll like it? He always says he doesn’t need anythin’, but… I want him to be happy, y’know?”

Jeremiah ignored him, which wasn't unexpected. Clayton smiled and pet him one last time, put the stew back in the larder, and crossed to the pantry. He crouched and dug behind the jars of preserves on the shelf, pulling out the stocking he’d stuffed back there days before. There were other gifts, too, wrapped sloppily in brown paper and string, already nestled under the tree. But this, this was _special._ He’d been saving it, planning it, for almost a year now, ever since Matthew had made an off-hand comment about missing the stockings he used to receive on Christmas day as a child, full of peppermint sticks, hand carved wooden soldiers, and one shiny penny in the toe.

“I loved waking up to find it hangin’ over the fireplace,” he’d said with a sheepish grin. “Proof that Santa had come.”

Clayton had smiled. “Sounds real nice, Matty.”

So this year, he’d made it his mission to get Matthew a stocking. Whitney was good with knitting needles, and she’d been happy to knit up a red and green stocking for him in exchange for a bit of gold. He’d spent weeks collecting and making things; a hankie with Matthew’s initials embroidered in the corner, a twisted peppermint stick from the grocers, one of the dime novels Matthew liked so well, and a shiny piece of gold for the toe. He’d even carved a little wooden cross, the perfect size to stand up on Matthew’s desk.

Two days prior, while Matthew was out putting final touches on Christmas decorations at the church, Clayton had hammered a nail over the fireplace. Matthew hadn’t noticed, which Clayton had been hoping for. He loved Matthew, but he wasn’t the most observant man in the world. And today, it was working in his favour.

Clayton left Jeremiah to his meal and crept back into the sitting room. He slipped the stocking carefully onto the nail over the fireplace, so it hung prettily on the mantle.

“Perfect,” he whispered to himself.

Then he tiptoed back into the bedroom, stripped off Matthew’s sweater, and slipped back into bed. Matthew curled around him as soon as he was settled, shoving his face in Clayton’s neck and muttering something unintelligible. His arm wound around Clayton’s waist, heavy and warm, clinging to him like a limpet. Clayton smiled, pressed a kiss to his hair, and let himself drift back to sleep, warm and happy.

* * *

It was light out when he woke up next. Matthew was half on top of him now, snoring in his ear, and curled on the pillow above his head was a purring mass of cat. It was, all in all, the perfect way to wake up. And any other morning he would bask in it, in the perfect warmth and coziness that was their little family. But a quick glance at the clock on their dresser showed that they had church in an hour, and this was a service that Matthew couldn’t miss. And he wanted Matthew to have a chance to see the stocking before they left; if they had time to open it, all the better.

“Matthew,” he whispered, shaking Matthew’s shoulder gently. “Wake up, it’s Christmas.”

Matthew grumbled and buried his face further in Clayton’s neck. Jeremiah rumbled at him too, a short unhappy sound at the disruption. Clayton laughed softly, then shook Matthew again, harder this time.

“Come on, darlin’, gotta wake up. You got church in an hour.”

Matthew startled awake, like he always did when Clayton mentioned church, jolting and pushing himself off Clayton. He blinked down at Clayton, that early morning bewilderment on his face.

“Clayton? Wassat?”

Clayton grinned at his sleepy, adorable husband. Matthew’s hair was mussed and falling in his eyes, there was a trail of drool down his chin, and Clayton couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him.

“Mornin’, love. Merry Christmas.”

The confusion melted away, and Matthew leaned down to kiss him again, grinning against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Clay.” He sat back up, smile brighter than the candles on their tree. “What time is it? Do we have time for gifts?”

“Probably not, we’ve only got an hour ‘til church, and we still gotta eat.” Matthew nodded, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. Clayton smiled and smoothed a hand down his side. “Why don’t we go get breakfast, then we can see?”

Matthew was out of bed in an instant, Jeremiah following close behind with a happy brupp. Clayton laughed and followed suit, digging under the covers at the end of the bed for the socks he’d once again kicked off. Matthew watched as he pulled them on, then the oversized sweater, a smitten smile on his face.

“Now when did you steal one of my sweaters?”

Clayton grinned and winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He scrubbed at his hair and yawned. “Come on, husband of mine, let’s go see if Santa brought anything last night.”

Matthew led the way out of the room, nearly bouncing with excitement. He was like a little kid on Christmas, and Clayton adored it. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t, but sure, let’s see what Santa brought.”

He stopped in his tracks when they entered the sitting room. Because there, hanging over the fireplace, was the stocking, pretty red and green, with a big ‘M’ stitched across it. Clayton was glad he’d been following, because it gave him the chance to see the look of shock shift quickly to delight as understanding crossed Matthew’s face. He looked back at Clayton, who didn’t even try and contain his grin.

“You didn’t.”

Clayton shrugged. “Musta been Santa.”

Matthew laughed, then pulled him into a bear hug, smudging a kiss against his temple. “Thank you, Clay. You didn’t… you didn’t need to do that.”

Clayton laughed softly and hugged him back, wrapping his arms around Matthew’s back and burying in his embrace. “I wanted to. And it’s high time we make our own traditions, ain’t it?”

Matthew pulled back enough to kiss him, soft and slow. His mouth was stale, and both their lips were chapped and cold, but neither of them cared. It was the perfect Christmas morning kiss, and Clayton hoped they would have many more just like it. Then Matthew said again, quiet, full of meaning. “Thank you. I love you.”

Clayton knew his smile was soppy, but he didn’t really care. He let Matthew lead him over to the sofa, curling up while Matthew retrieved his stocking and sat on the other end. Then he watched as Matthew started to open it, eyes bright and shining over all the little treasures buried inside. It was moments like these that made him fall in love all over again, watching his husband and the delight that something so small could bring.

Jeremiah leapt into his lap, curling up and purring as Clayton buried his hands in his fur. When he looked back up Matthew was watching him, eyes crinkled at the corners, mouth curved into the softest smile, the one reserved just for him. He wrapped his hand around Clayton’s ankle, squeezing softly.

“This was really special, Clay. Thank you.”

Clayton smiled and reached down, finding Matthew’s hand and tangling their fingers together. Christmas was a magical time of year, and nowhere more than here, in their little home, with their cat and each other. “You’re welcome, love. Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft husbands deserve a soft Christmas together <3


	34. In which Matthew has a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! 
> 
> Today's chapter was prompted by the wonderful sondering_on, who had suggested "Matthew accidentally phases in his sleep, tearing the sheets and bedding apart, and when he comes to and lays down real close to Clayton, ears pinned back and whining his apologies, Clay just pets his head and sighs and says, “It’s alright, we’ll go get new ones in the morning”." 
> 
> That turned into this, because I couldn't help but insert a little bit of angst and h/c. Thanks for the great prompt!

It didn’t happen often. That, in and of itself, was part of what made him roll over and squint groggily at Matthew through the darkness. He was fucking exhausted, and his ribs _ached_ , but he couldn’t help the worry that ran through him like a jolt of electricity. Because lying on their reinforced bed beside him was a fuzzy werebear, snarling in his sleep.

Matthew sleeping in his bear form wasn’t the concerning part. They’d finally caved and had a reinforced bed made out of necessity after Matthew had broken their regular bed not once, not twice, but three goddamn times. And really, the massive bed, placed low to the ground, was wonderful. Sturdy and strong, it made it so that Matthew could shift whenever he wanted or needed to, and so that he could curl up around Clayton in either form and not have Clayton complain about a sore back from sleeping on the floor come morning. And it was especially helpful for nights like this, when Matthew shifted in his sleep, bursting through whatever clothes he happened to be wearing and snoozing right through it.

Clayton _normally_ woke up on the rare occasion when it happened, only sleeping through Matthew’s shift when he was particularly exhausted. That was what he’d thought would happen tonight; they’d stumbled home from a long, difficult job that they’d stumbled home sometime after midnight, and he’d barely been cognizant when Matthew bundled him into bed. It was still dark, so it couldn’t have been that much later. And he still felt far too tired to be awake, even with the gnawing pain in his side where he’d been hit. But here he was, awake. And there was Matthew, a massive furry lump on the bed beside him.

All in all, it wasn’t an odd thing to wake up to. But the growls coming from the bear, low and continuous, and the claws shredding Matthew’s pillow – well, that was new.

“Matty.” Clayton groggily reached out and touched the fur on Matthew’s shoulder, carefully avoiding the claws and teeth. “Matty, wake up.”

Another furious snarl, a flurry of movement beside him, and the bed creaked underneath him. Two massive paws landed on either side of him as Matthew shoved himself to all fours and _loomed_ over him, snarling in Clayton’s face, muscles twitching with barely contained rage. The mattress sank underneath Matthew’s paws, and Clayton rolled with them, blinking up at the furious werebear.

“Matty?”

The anger disappeared in a flash. Matthew shrank back, ears pinning back to his skull, jaws snapping shut as he cowered. He let out a low, mournful croon, shifting off Clayton and groveling on the mattress, a massive shape in the darkness. Clayton frowned and put out a hand, but Matthew flinched away from it.

“Darlin’, what –“

Matthew carefully nosed his hand, licking it once in clear apology. He whined again, eyes wide and so goddamn _sad._ He wasn’t even looking at Clayton, not really. But he inched carefully closer, head laying on the sheets, clearly trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible while still keeping contact _._ Clayton pushed himself to sitting, then gently buried a hand in Matthew’s fur.

“Hey, no, c’mere.” He slid his hands to Matthew’s massive head, picking it up and forcing Matthew to look at him. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m fine, love. You didn’t hurt me. You don’t need to apologize.”

Matthew shuddered, then wormed closer, burying his head in Clayton’s chest and whining in question. Clayton hugged him, pressing another kiss to his head.

“I’m sure. I’m fine, I promise.”

He lay back down, pulling Matthew closer. There was a pause, a moment where Matthew was clearly trying to hold himself back, then he gave in and curled close beside Clayton. He snuffed at Clayton’s ribs, then gave a questioning whine.

“They’re okay,” Clayton said softly. “Just a bit bruised, and a bit scraped. You saw them, darlin’. Arabella wasn’t worried.”

Matthew chuffed, then hesitantly lay his massive head against Clayton’s shoulder. Clayton craned his neck to press a kiss to his snout, getting a broad lick across his cheek in return. Then his ear, his neck, his shoulder, Matthew apologizing the way he knew best in this form. Clayton let him, only sputtering a little, finally looping his arm around Matthew’s neck and hugging him close. Matthew settled, letting himself be held, watching Clayton with careful eyes.

“Was it a nightmare?” Clayton asked, voice going groggy and quiet once more. He was still so goddamn tired, and the brief spike of adrenaline had left him drained. Matthew huffed affirmatively, then licked Clayton’s ear and whined, another apology he didn’t need to make. Clayton huffed back, scritching Matthew’s ears.

“Do you wanna shift back, or you gonna stay like this?”

Matthew hesitated. Clayton scratched his ears again, slower this time. He knew that Matthew sometimes felt safer this way, more prepared to deal with whatever danger might face them. It made sense that he would want to stay this way, with Clayton injured, and himself so recently awoken from a nightmare.

“I don’t mind either way, darlin’. I trust you. You can keep me safe, if you want.” Clayton yawned, wishing for a moment that his ribs didn’t hurt, and that he could curl onto his side and bury his face in Matthew’s fur. Sleep tugged at him insistently. “’Sides, you’re warm and soft. Best blanket there is.”

Matthew relaxed into him, chuffing when Clayton shoved his closest foot under Matthew’s belly. He really was like a goddamn oven.

He meant to say something else, he really did. Something reassuring, something that would tell Matthew that he would be okay, that he didn’t have to keep watch throughout the night, or hold himself so carefully. That he knew Matthew would never hurt him with his claws or his teeth. But he was warm, and tired, and Matthew was okay.

The sleep he’d been trying to fight dragged him under.

* * *

He was warm when he woke, and pinned comfortably beneath an arm resting across his hips and the head pillowed on his shoulder. Matthew had shifted back sometime in the night, and he was curled around Clayton, as close as he could be without hurting his ribs. It was a good sign that he was feeling safer, and a tinge of relief washed through Clayton at the feel of skin pressed against his body instead of fur. He had no problem with sleeping with Matthew in his bear form, but the nightmare had worried him.

Matthew was snoring, but that was nothing new. Jeremiah was in his usual place, curled up and purring above Clayton’s head. He wasn’t yowling for food, and the sun streaming through the window meant that it was later than Clayton’s usual wake up time.

_Matty musta fed him._

Fondness swept through him, he leaned his cheek against Matthew’s hair and settled his hand on the wrist resting on his hip. Matthew shifted, pressing closer, snores petering off into a quieter snuffling sound. Clayton stilled, waiting to see if he’d wake or fall back into a deeper sleep.

Matthew snuffled again, then mumbled something inaudible against Clayton’s skin.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Clayton said, a smile creeping over his face. Matthew was always groggy in the mornings, prone to sleeping late and trying his hardest to convince Clayton to stay in bed and cuddle as long as he could. It wasn’t something Clayton would have thought he’d love as much as he did. 

“Mornin’,” Matthew mumbled, nuzzling into Clayton’s shoulder. “’S too early.”

Clayton laughed softly. “It’s always too early for you.” He smoothed his thumb across Matthew’s wrist. “Did you feed Jeremiah?”

Matthew nodded, then yawned. “Didn’t want him to wake you up. Thought you might need the sleep.”

“No more than you. You get back to sleep ok last night?”

“Yeah, after I nearly took your head off,” Matthew muttered, hiding his face. “I shoulda known better. I ripped the pillow all up, and I nearly hurt you –“

“Oh, shush.” Clayton pressed a kiss to Matthew’s hair, hand squeezing his wrist reassuringly. “It’s just a pillow, and I was goddamn well fine. A little bit of growling never hurt nobody.”

Matthew tensed. “If I hadn’t –“

“But you did,” Clayton interrupted. “You did realize, and you did stop. I trust you, love. I ain’t ever been worried you’ll hurt me, not for a goddamn moment. In _either_ form. Okay?”

Matthew craned his head back, looking up at Clayton. Some of the tension bled from his frame, and he ghosted his lips across Clayton’s jaw. “Okay, darlin’.”

Clayton shifted so he could kiss him properly, slow and soft, sweet despite the stale breath that was characteristic of early morning kisses. When he pulled away Matthew was smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges, laugh lines pulling around his mouth.

“I love you,” Clayton said, cupping Matthew’s cheek, letting his thumb trace one of his laugh lines, delighting in the sign of living a happy life, of aging together. “Even when you’re growling.”

Matthew huffed a laugh.

“Good,” he said, “I love you when you’re growling, too. Lord knows that you growl more often than I do.”

Clayton laughed, shoving him half-heartedly away before he let Matthew pull him back into another kiss, lips warm and chapped against his.

“Guess I’m lucky that you put up with me, huh.”

Matthew smiled again, eyes a soft deep brown, hair sleep-tousled and peppered with grey. Somehow, after so long together, he could still catch Clayton off guard with a look, a smile, struck again and again by how handsome he was.

 _God, I love you._

“I guess we’re both lucky, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to picture the look on whoever they commissioned to build the bed's face when they requested a massive bed that can hold like, the weight of five people at once.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed <3 Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> I'm on [the tumblr](https://thetragicallynerdy.tumblr.com/), come say hi! I'm also always accepting prompts for this series - I can't promise that it will get filled in anything approaching a timely manner, but feel free to send me an ask if you have something you'd like to see!


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